


Coming in from the Cold: Tuesday: Facing Fears

by Ysabetwordsmith



Series: Love Is For Children [32]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: #coulsonlives, Ableism, Ableist Language, Altered Mental States, Amnesia, Angst, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Avengers Family, Bad Touch, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Brain Damage, Brainwashing, Canon Disabled Character, Competence Kink, Competency, Courage, Current environment is supportive, Despair, Disability, Disabled Character, Emotional First Aid, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotions, Families of Choice, Family, Friendship, Games, Gen, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Hobbies, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Medical Trauma, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Touching, Nostalgia, Past, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Past Violence, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Regret, Remorse, SHIELD, Sexual Harassment, Shame, Sleep, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Build, Survivor Guilt, Team, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, Teamwork, Touch-Starved, Touching, Touchy-Feely, Trauma, Watching Someone Sleep, internalized oppression, overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysabetwordsmith/pseuds/Ysabetwordsmith
Summary: Several of the Avengers visit SHIELD for a variety of professional and personal reasons. It helps to have friends at your side while facing challenges.(I marked "Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings" this time, because there is some graphic violence and nonconsensual activity, but most of it happened in the past instead of during the current story.  See tags for details.)





	1. Someone to Talk With

**Author's Note:**

> A note on feedback: While it's not necessary to comment on every post I make, remember that I don't know who reads/likes things if nobody says anything. Particularly on long stories, I've discovered that I get antsy if there's nothing but crickets chirping for several posts. So it helps to give me feedback at least once, even if it's just "I like this" or "This one doesn't grab me." First and last episodes are ideal if you rarely feel inspired to comment in the middle.
> 
> I also have a list of [favorite photogenic scenes](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/9313791.html) from the whole series for fanartists to consider, partly compiled from audience requests.
> 
> Read [Part 1](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/10765777.html), [Part 2](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/10766433.html), [Part 3](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/10767108.html), [Part 4](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/10767591.html), [Part 5](http://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/10768779.html).

In the morning, Phil came into the common kitchen to find Clint already at the table with a bowl of Cookie Crunch. Bruce sat beside him, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Bucky stood over a covered skillet that smelled fragrantly of sausage and sauerkraut.

"Good morning," Phil said, listening to their lazy murmurs as he headed for the coffee machine. It already had a cup sitting in it, coffee trickling in as he approached. The laser pointer wrote _PHIL_ across the cup in blue letters, then winked off, letting him know it was prepared according to his preferences. There were advantages to living with a technogenius and his electronic family.  
  
Phil took an appreciative sip, the strong black coffee washing away the last of his sleepiness. "Thank you, JARVIS, this is perfect."

"Skillet's done, come and get it," Bucky said as he filled his plate.

Bruce and Phil each dished up some of the fluffy mass. "What is this?" Bruce asked. "It smells good."

"It's hofbrau hash. I learned to make it in Germany," Bucky said. "Potatoes, sauerkraut, meat if you have it -- I threw in some apples and other stuff too."

Phil looked at Clint eating nothing but heavily sugared cereal, then put a single spoonful of hash onto a small plate and took it to him. "Here, try this too. It sounds a lot like a breakfast version of shut-up-and-eat-it."

Bucky was already shoveling food into his mouth at a brisk pace. Bruce followed suit. Clint sampled the new dish more cautiously, then decided it was okay. Phil found it delicious. The quantity in the skillet diminished at speed as people took second helpings.

"I need to go in to SHIELD today," Phil said over breakfast. "Assistant Director Hill wants me to look over some new recruits so that I can advise about forming teams and assigning handlers. What are you guys planning to do?"

"I was thinking ... maybe ..." Bucky said slowly. "You sent me a message about services. Shellshock. Moral Injury. Mad Science Torture." His fork clinked against the plate as he poked at his food. "JARVIS said that it's not considered malingering anymore, if a soldier comes back from combat and maybe needs a little help wrapping his head around what happened to him."

"That's the ideal, although it's a work in progress," Phil said. "What did you have in mind?"

"I kinda want someone to talk with," Bucky said. "You guys have been great, don't get me wrong, but you've all got your own stuff to deal with. I thought it might help to have someone who's not so tangled up in the team dynamics, and not a civilian either, someone who can hear what I gotta say without getting messed up over it. What happened to me makes me feel frantic, what I did makes me feel dirty, it's all just a wreck inside," Bucky shrugged his left shoulder. "SHIELD, I don't really trust them, but the stuff in the message sounded good, you know?"  
  
Phil had forwarded descriptions of the new counseling options on offer. "If you're talking about Dr. Samson's services, then yes, I've heard excellent feedback from other agents regarding his private and group sessions," Phil said. "We could certainly contact him and ask him to fit you into his schedule, if that's what you want."

"Guess I'm asking if I could come with you, if it's safe," Bucky said.

"I'll make sure it's safe," Phil promised. "Clint, Bruce, what about you two? Now might be a good opportunity for you to get back into the swing of things."

"I'll come with you for moral support, and protection if you need it," Clint said to Bucky. Then he looked at Bruce.

Bruce swallowed hard. "I could, uh, help with that too."

"Thanks, guys," said Bucky. He didn't know the full details of why Clint and Bruce tended to avoid SHIELD these days, but Phil did. Some people blamed Clint and Bruce for the near-destruction of the Helicarrier, despite Loki having set up the whole disaster. Neither of them really felt comfortable there, but they wouldn't let a teammate go without backup. Their latest trips to SHIELD had been on Bucky's behalf also.

_They need to face their fears too,_ Phil decided. _If they keep avoiding SHIELD, it will just get worse over time. People need to get used to seeing them around, preferably not during an emergency_.

So Phil put in a call to SHIELD. He alerted Assistant Director Hill to their pending arrival, so she could assist with any necessary safeguards. Then he contacted Dr. Samson, who readily bumped one of his non-critical clients to a slot later in the week to make room for meeting Bucky. Soon everyone finished breakfast and got ready to leave.  
  
The ride to SHIELD was a little tense. When they reached their destination, Phil could see the potential for trouble in the taut line of Clint's shoulders and the desperate clench of Bruce's fists in his pants pockets. Still they flanked Bucky in a protective stance. Between them, Bucky looked relaxed, almost lazy, but his eyes tracked every flicker of motion.

Assistant Director Hill met them on arrival. "Agent Coulson, Agent Barton, thank you for coming in today. We could use your eyes on the new recruits."

"Yes, ma'am." The archer's voice was crisp, only a slow blink betraying his surprise at being included in the official activities.

"Dr. Banner," Hill said, acknowledging him with a nod.  
  
"Um. Just observing," he replied, sidling behind Phil.

"Sergeant Barnes." Hill turned to Bucky with a welcoming smile. "It's good to see you on your feet, soldier."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "It's good to be here."

"I believe we may still have some of your personal effects in storage, along with what we kept for Captain Rogers," said Hill. "He chose not to reclaim any of his. You might feel differently. Shall I check on the contents and bring you a list?"

"Please," Bucky said.

"All right, then," Hill said. "I'll see you all later." She strode away, her boots clicking briskly against the floor.

"Usual drill?" Phil said to Clint. "You flush the birds and I watch how they fly?"

"Sure thing," Clint said, more relaxed now than when he left the tower. "I can take them to a practice area, give them an hour or so to work off the excitement, then make things interesting."

"That sounds like a plan," Phil said.

Then Clint smirked. "Hey, Doc?" he said, and turned to Bruce. "You wanna help me out with the newbies? I got an idea."

"I, I'm not a soldier," Bruce said, wringing his hands. "I'm not a spy. I don't know about any of this stuff."

"Nah, I'm not talking about spy stuff," Clint assured him. "I'm thinking if I rig one of my marker arrows to explode when somebody touches it, we'll have red paint everywhere -- call it a medical emergency drill for the newbies. You can tell us what you think about their first aid skills, who'd be reliable under field conditions and who'd panic."

"Field conditions," Bruce murmured thoughtfully. "Wonder what they'd do if they couldn't _find_ a first aid kit ..."

"Or it wasn't fully stocked," Clint said, playing along.

"Or it had crazy things in it like handkerchiefs, string, and a bottle of scotch," Bucky said with a grin. He'd heard stories about Bruce's improvisational skills, and shared some of his own from the Howling Commandos.

Phil gave a wicked little chuckle. "I like the way you boys think. Make it happen."

Then they went to the cafeteria to wait for Dr. Samson. Phil approved of his proposal to meet them all in neutral, public territory rather than bringing Bucky alone into his office. The ID card scanner had a sticker above it that read, _Do not look directly into laser with remaining eye_. One corner of it had been picked off -- Director Fury had little sense of humor -- but the rest would have to wait for a janitor with solvent and a razor blade.

Ahead of them in line stood a mousy young man with dark curls, who ducked his head shyly when they fell into step behind him. His nametag read _Daveed_. "It's good to see you again, sir," he murmured as they moved down the line. "Just so you know, there's a bug in the Helicarrier engine control routines, but we've just about got it fixed."

"Good job," said Phil.

Daveed gave him a bashful smile before ducking away to a corner table.

There was coffee in the cafeteria, although nowhere near as good as they enjoyed at home. _I'm getting spoiled,_ Phil thought, taking a sip anyway.

Some of the people already seated got up and moved away from the Avengers' table. Phil glared at their departing backs, making a mental note of their names. Agent Smith and Agent Jones shared a silent look, then came over to say hello. They ranked high among the few who placed the blame wholly on Loki.

"It's good to have you back, Barton," said Smith.

"We missed you," Jones said. "It's not the same, only seeing you when we get called out to hold the perimeter for the Avengers."

"Thanks," Clint said softly.

"Smith and Jones here are two of our best linemen," Phil explained to Bucky, and then made introductions all around.

"Hard job," Bucky said. "I appreciate you watching the Captain's back."

"Somebody has to do it," Smith said with a philosophical shrug. "He gets around, chasing that shield of his, but he always completes the mission."

"Hulk now, he's harder to keep ahead of," Jones added. "That guy can _jump._ We always give him a few extra blocks. Anything you know that would make things easier, Dr. Banner?"

Bruce startled, not expecting anyone to address him directly. "Uh, no, not that I can think of."

"Well, let us know if you do," Jones said.  
  
"Give our regards to Dr. Ross," Smith added.

"And just how would you know her?" Bruce said, leaning forward.

"She's training as handler for you and Hulk, so we're liaising with her about your support needs during and after combat," Smith explained. "It just seemed polite to come over and ask you too."

"Oh," Bruce said quietly. "That's um, thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome," Smith said. Then he and his partner went back to their own table.

"So SHIELD provides ground support for the Avengers?" Bucky asked Phil.  
  
"Yes, and air support if needed," Phil said. "Usually it amounts to crowd control, extra eyes on the enemy, medical services, carrying supplies, that sort of thing. The Avengers do the heavy work."

"I like to stay eyes-high," Clint said, leaning forward. "Most of the time, I pick out a good perch and Iron Man drops me on a roof. From there I can shoot everything in range, and call targets for the rest of the team. It'll be nice to have someone else on my level so we could cover each other."

"Don't forget that I do more close-up work than you do," Bucky pointed out. "I'd rather shoot, but I can go hand-to-hand if necessary."

"Sure, but that's the point -- things heat up in the sky, you can drop down and draw 'em off while I stay in position," Clint said. "As it is now, when I get driven to street level, I'm less effective there and we lose our bird's eye view of the fight. Iron Man helps some, but he does not have a sniper's eye for trouble."

Agent Sitwell sidled up to their table and deposited a box of donuts. "I heard that you guys came in to test the recruits," he said. Like Phil, he was slim and unassuming, his dainty gold-rimmed glasses giving him the look of a harmless bureaucrat. It was a good cover. "Nice to hear that you're also planning to field your new sniper. It'd be a shame to let talent like that go to waste." He smiled at Bucky, then disappeared again.

Bucky opened the box and made a happy noise when he spied the vanilla-frosted donut covered in bubblegum sprinkles. "My favorite," he said, taking a large bite.

"He's totally courting you," Clint whispered to Bucky.

"What?" Bucky yelped. "Wait, no, I go for _dames_ not fellas --"  
  
"Not like that," Clint said. "I mean Sitwell wants you for an asset."

"I thought Phil was our handler ...?" Bucky said with a frown.

"I am," Phil assured him. "I handle the Avengers, and I've been fielding Barton and Romanova for years, singly or as a duo. I hope to add you whenever you're ready. However, that doesn't mean you're _obligated_ to accept me as your handler. Agent Sitwell and I have covered for each other's assets before ... though 'courtship' may be a bit strong of a term."

"Well, what else would you call it?" Clint said. "I dunno what you handlers think you're doing when you pick out a new asset from the pool, but look at it from our end. You offer us spare ammo or dry clothes, and you remind us to sleep if we've stood watch too long. That shows you care about our survival and performance, so we know you won't make us run on empty." Clint helped himself to a chocolate-frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles. "You watch us. Then you bring us stuff that you think we'll like, so we know you've been paying attention. It lets us gauge how good you are at observation."  
  
Phil couldn't help but think of the time he spent choosing pajamas for game night, so as to meet not just the physical need of context-appropriate clothing but also the social need of being understood as an individual. It gave him a way to demonstrate that he recognized everyone's personal tastes.  
  
That brought to mind how JARVIS treated the Avengers. _He feeds us, he keeps us warm and dry, and he reminds us to take care of ourselves. He's always watching and listening to keep us safe. He was courting us just like Clint said_ ... Phil thought, and had to chuckle. ... _and we never realized it, but we ALL said yes_. It was funny how easily Phil overlooked the handler aspects of what JARVIS did, but once Clint pointed out the pattern, other examples fell into place.

"All right, you win," Phil agreed. His hand hovered over the box, waffling between powdered sugar and chocolate-dipped donuts.  
  
"Oh, not again," Clint said. He put one of each in front of Phil. "Just watch, Bucky. Next time there will be three or four of those bubblegum donuts in the box."

"Huh," Bucky said. He peered at the donuts, evidently memorizing the selection for future reference.

"Anyhow, Sitwell likes the strong, silent type," Clint said. "I know from what Steve has said that sometimes you're chatty and other times you clam up. Phil here doesn't do well with radio silence, but Sitwell does. So they could take you on completely different kinds of missions."

"Such as ...?" Bucky said gamely.

"Let me tell you about this time Sitwell took Black Widow to Istanbul," Clint said, waving his donut to illustrate. "You'd think the two of them would stick out like crazy there, wouldn't you? But no. They went in after this mutant-trafficking ring, and just fucking _vanished_. Three weeks later, they showed up in Ankara with Black Widow disguised as a man while Sitwell hid himself, two kilos of hashish, and three machine guns under a burqa ..."

Phil listened as Clint regaled Bucky with the not-too-classified portions of the tale. He also watched Bucky to gauge his interest in getting back into the field. While hesitant about his own reliability if approached directly, Bucky responded eagerly to stories and practice and anything that touched on combat in more oblique ways. _He'll get there,_ Phil decided.

Dr. Samson arrived while Bucky was still engrossed in Clint's story. Instead of interrupting, he glanced over the rest of the group. Then he spied Bruce and broke into a wide smile. "Bruce! I mean, Dr. Banner, I'm delighted that I get to meet you finally, and you too, Hulk," Dr. Samson said, holding out a hand.

"Um," Bruce said lamely. He scrunched a little smaller in his chair. "Hi? Why would you even want to ..."

"Betty has told me so much about you," Dr. Samson said. He pulled his hand back without any sign of insult.

"I find that hard to imagine," Bruce said with a grimace.

"Did she mention why I broke up with her?" Dr. Samson asked gently.

"I didn't ask," Bruce said.

"Well, she talked about the two of you so much, I realized that she was still in love with you. So I shooed her away as carefully as I could, and told her to go find her men," Dr. Samson said.

"That's, uh, very generous of you," Bruce said. One hand plucked at the opposite cuff of his shirt.

"I owe you an apology, though," Dr. Samson said. "I am sincerely sorry for setting General Ross on your trail. I had no idea how dangerous he was -- Betty never warned me about him -- but by the time I met him in person and realized that, it was too late. I deeply regret the harm that resulted from it. I hope you can forgive me."

Phil knew that General Ross had first tried to dupe Betty into betraying Bruce, with no luck whatsoever, because _she_ knew exactly how warped her father was. Failing that, General Ross had turned to someone less familiar and thus more susceptible to his lies. It hadn't turned out well for anyone. Dr. Samson had expressed his outrage with a couple of ruthlessly aimed nerve strikes to General Ross' ego.

And now Bruce was still sitting there staring at Dr. Samson, without giving any kind of response. Phil reached under the table and gave Bruce a very soft tap on the ankle.

"Thank you for the apology. It was very thoughtful," Bruce said with careful formality. "I'm not used to ... that is ... I don't really know what to make of it."

"That's perfectly understandable," Dr. Samson said. "I'd like for us to be friends, but if you don't feel comfortable around me, I won't bother you again."

"No, it's fine," Bruce said. He seemed bemused by the man's amiable approach, but willing to go along with it. "I don't have many people willing to be around me at all, so it's not like I can afford to throw any of them away." He closed his eyes for a moment, nibbling on his lip. Then he looked back at Dr. Samson and held out his hand. "So yeah, nice to meet you. I'm glad you were there for Betty, too."

"My pleasure," Dr. Samson said, shaking Bruce's hand.

By then, Clint had finished his story, so Bucky was free to introduce himself to Dr. Samson. Bucky's handshake was careful but confident. "I liked the list of services you offered," he said.

"That's good to hear. Did anything in particular catch your eye?" Dr. Samson asked.

"Mad Science Torture, but I can't go in a group, too much of what happened to me is still classified," Bucky said. "Same with Moral Injury."

HYDRA had been fooling around with variations on the super-soldier serum and with the Tesseract. Department X had different types of enhancements and the cryochamber. _What a mess,_ Phil thought sadly. _It's a good thing that Dr. Samson's level-headed response to the whole Hulk situation earned him a high clearance_.

"No problem," Dr. Samson said easily. "We can cover the same topics in a private session. Would you like to take this to my office, or pick somewhere else? Some of the other agents prefer talking in the gym, and one even likes the sauna."

"Sauna? Gym? We can do that?" Bucky asked.

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable," Dr. Samson said. "We could walk while we talk, if you like. I can show you all the good places to hang out."

"Except the air vents," Clint said. "No offense, man, but you don't look fit enough to scramble up the kind of places Bucky and I can get into."

"Then I'll leave that part of the tour in your capable hands," Dr. Samson said.  
  
Bucky chuckled. "Sure, whatever," he said, standing to follow Dr. Samson to the door.

"That was weird," Bruce said after they left.

"How so?" Phil asked.

"Just everything," Bruce said with a shrug. "Meeting my girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. Him being _excited_ to meet me. Bucky feeling safe enough to go off with him after, what, five minutes?" Bruce frowned a little. "And I think ... the Other Guy finds him kind of ... intriguing. Not sure why."

"Well, Betty likes him," Clint pointed out. "Hulk tends to pay extra attention to things like that. Besides, Dr. Samson apologized for what happened with old Thunderbolt. Has anybody ever done that before?"

"No," Bruce said softly, looking down at his hands. His fingers twitched, weaving together.

"So maybe Hulk likes the idea of someone who's sorry for hurting him, instead of gloating over it," Clint said. Then he patted Bruce on the shoulder. "Come on, buddy, you're overthinking this. Let it go for now. We've got some newbies to go play with."

"Okay," Bruce said. He shook himself, then stood to go with Clint. "We'll see you later, Phil ... or sooner, I guess, if things go wrong again."

Phil brushed his fingertips over Bruce's wrist, a discreet touch of comfort. "I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't trust you. We all need to get used to having a shield at our backs," he said. "Everything will be fine. I look forward to reviewing the tapes you and Clint get of the new recruits." Then Phil headed to his office. He had plenty of time to kill while Clint and Bruce set up the testing. He might as well get some paperwork done.

The office was quiet and clean, ever so faintly stuffy from disuse. Phil did most of his work from Avengers Tower these days. Still, there were some things that he left strictly within SHIELD jurisdiction, sensitive files in particular. Though to be sure, the more vulnerable material he kept on paper, filed amidst old manuals on food handling regulations. Phil's secure email overflowed with messages. Everyone wanted his help with something, it seemed.

An assortment of conduct complaints between handlers and assets marked a growing problem with discipline. The lower morale got, the worse people behaved. So many officers took their cues from Fury that his volatile temper spread its influence throughout the organization. At least Coulson had direct authority over the handlers and could reprimand them for mistreating their assets. To the handlers with problem assets, he sent notes reassuring them that such behavior was unacceptable, along with disciplinary suggestions and pointers to some of Dr. Samson's offerings that might help. Coulson hoped that would settle things down.

Assistant Director Hill had flagged several messages for his attention because they related to Stark intellectual property. When Coulson had discovered the extent of material retained from Howard Stark's tenure instead of turned over to his heir as legally required, it was appalling. He was still trying to figure out whether Fury had really coughed up all of it or not. Now this, hints and suspicions of someone sniffing around Tony's designs where they had no business going. So much of SHIELD ran on Starktech, they couldn't afford to offend Tony. _Again_. Coulson filed the additional materials as part of his ongoing investigation.  
  
That reminded Phil of Sam Wilson, the counselor they had met at the VA in Washington, D.C. _I wonder if we could entice him to come work here,_ Phil thought. _He already has a high clearance because of his involvement with the EXO-7, and now he works with veterans. It can't hurt to try_. He brought up the relevant forms and sent an invitation. Then he moved on.

The new Pope, Francis, had only held office for a few months but already managed to outrage villains and Church officials alike with his radical compassion. Fury's notation on the file read, "We _like_ this guy. Word on the street is that he's made a couple of hardcore supervillains repent. Let's try to keep him alive, see if he can do more of that." Phil looked over the list of known assassins who had been contacted about killing the Pope, and sighed.

_At least they no longer have the Winter Soldier, Black Widow, or Hawkeye to send after him,_ Phil thought. He jotted down ideas for countermeasures.

He continued to a message from Colonel Rhodes about coordinating War Machine with Iron Man. Tony had introduced them, but they still knew each other more by reputation than personal contact. It wasn't hard to read between the lines. _Rhodey thinks that the Air Force might let him get back in touch with Tony if it means replacing the inferior Hammer weaponry with Starktech,_ Phil mused. _He doesn't mention it directly, though. Let's see if we can work something out_. Phil replied with a request for a video call.

Next came a cluster of incidents from troublemakers relatively new to the scene. The recent smackdown in Russia had left something of a power vacuum. AIM was underfunded, the Ten Rings squabbling, and Department X had gone ominously silent. It left the regional and national villains vying for a place on the global stage. Phil dutifully made recommendations for dealing with them.

He hesitated over the last one, a neo-Nazi anti-mutant (anti-everything, really) group trying to horn in on HYDRA turf. Finally Phil wrote, "Let Magneto and Professor X handle this one. It's their specialty, and if we get in the way, the collateral damage will just go higher." The offenders would have a slightly better chance of survival in SHIELD hands, but Magneto in particular held the shortest average start-to-finish on problems of this type, and the X-Men would minimize the risk to innocent bystanders. Phil was perfectly willing to trade off lower survival for the bad guys to get them off the street sooner and reduce civilian casualties.

The computer chimed, giving him updated personnel files on the new recruits. Hawkeye had run them through an obstacle course and posted the fresh scores. _Hmm ... promising, adequate, adequate, probably hopeless, almost impressive ..._ Phil thought as he paged through the results. Out of the dozen candidates, one or two would probably fail out today. A few might stand out enough to merit special training. The rest would go into the general pool for use in whatever capacity SHIELD needed.

Phil's screen flashed a video call notification. He tapped in his acceptance, and a warm brown face appeared. "Colonel Rhodes, thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I'm pleased to find that Tony's descriptions of your reliability are right on the mark," Phil said.

"You're welcome, and call me Rhodey. I've heard some good things about you as well," he replied, with a faint emphasis on _some_ that made Phil wonder how mixed the reports had been.

"I'd like to hear your ideas about War Machine and Iron Man," Phil said mildly. "Sometimes we could use better air support than we have. I imagine there are times when you could use some heavier boots on the ground. Now, according to Mr. Stark, the Air Force isn't too fond of him these days ..."

"If Tony has told you that much, then he's told you that the military is keeping us apart and probably why. After Afghanistan, and Vanko, I'm not the most popular guy either," Rhodey said. "I think Tony and I can clear the air between us, given a chance to talk. I also think War Machine would be a lot more effective with upgraded armor and weapons that don't shoot at the wrong side."

"Yet you chose to approach me with this, rather than Tony," said Phil.

Rhodey sighed. "I know that Tony wants to get back in touch with me. He sends me messages, and in the last few months they're not all dickbombs anymore. So he's easing up a bit. I send replies when I can." Rhodey fingered his tie, a wingman pattern printed in silver on navy blue. "He sent me this too."

"That's promising," Phil agreed.

"I don't want to ask him for weapons, although I'm not sure anything less would get the Air Force off our backs," Rhodey said. "I respect his decision -- don't agree with it, _hate_ it in fact -- but it's his right and nobody else should take that away from him. People have robbed him enough already. Including me, since I stole the suit in the first place --"

"You must know that he let you take it," Phil pointed out. "You're a couple of inches taller than Tony, not to mention broader in the shoulders. Iron Man wouldn't fit you, and War Machine wouldn't fit him. That suit was made for you."

"That doesn't make me feel any better about how I got it," Rhodey said. "Tony's still pissed that I let Hammer hack it, and he's right to be. I fucked up. I know that. But this isn't just about me and Tony. We've got jobs to do, people depend on us, so we need to get our shit together." Rhodey rubbed a hand over the short ruff of his hair. "I don't know how to reopen contact, though. It's been so touch and go between us. I hoped maybe you could help with that."

"I can certainly speak with Tony about about giving War Machine a tuneup," said Phil. "If you want my advice ... ask him to upgrade the armor and the software. Once Tony gets that suit on the bench, I can't imagine him leaving _anything_ from Hammer attached to it, nor would he leave you defenseless in the field. I think you stand a good chance of getting your weaponry fixed without having to ask for it. As you said, it should be Tony's choice."  
  
"That might just work, if I can get the Air Force to go for it," Rhodey said.

"You could have had them off your back months ago, if you'd accepted any of the several offers of help," Phil said. Tony and JARVIS had both complained that Rhodey refused to let them intervene, and Phil had no better luck.

"I hoped it would wear off naturally," Rhodey said. "It usually does when I screw up. This time ... maybe not." His voice held a deep note of regret, like an echo lost in a well. Phil knew that Rhodey's steadfast searching was a key reason why Tony made it out of Afghanistan, but that loyalty nearly cost Rhodey his career.


	2. The Current Level of Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil attempts to reconnect Rhodey and Tony. Phil, Clint, and Bruce discuss the new SHIELD recruits. Later they reconvene with Bucky.

"I can't blame you for wanting to solve your own problems, but there comes a time when you need to call for backup," Phil said. His mouth quirked in a fond smile. "You and Tony have a great deal in common; I can see why you're friends."

Rhodey flinched a little, as if Phil had hit a tender spot. "You know Tony, and more importantly, you know Pepper," Rhodey said, switching to a different tack. "That puts you in a _very_ select inner circle. I want to get back with him, but I'm concerned about his behavior. Ever since Afghanistan, he's been putting himself in danger more and talking to people less. Do you have _any_ idea what's up with that?"

Tony had, in fact, turned around in recent months and made excellent progress. The trouble was, Rhodey hadn't been close enough to see much of the improvements yet. Phil thought about how to respond without giving away more than he had a right to share. "Have you seen footage of the most recent fights?" Phil asked. "You might turn an eye toward the current level of teamwork."

 _"What_ teamwork?" Rhodey snapped. "Tony hates teamwork."  
  
"Maybe that's because he never had a real team before," Phil said softly. He had his own sour memories of how 'teamwork' went in a typical schoolroom, which was to say, the most talented or responsible person wound up doing all the work.  
  
"Maybe that's because he's a pain in the ass," Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. "I love Tony like a brother, but he drives people up a wall. You would not believe the shit I have seen him do. He's _still_ doing crazy shit, and he's _how_ old now?" Rhodey's aggrieved tone abruptly reminded Phil of talking with Steve and Bucky about Tony's shortcomings.  
  
"How much do you know about Tony's past?" Phil asked.  
  
"Tony doesn't talk about his past," Rhodey said. "People only know what happens from the point they pick him up, or what's in the public record." Then he stared at Phil. "Wait, he _talked_ to you? Tony actually told you something about himself, about his family? Spit it out, I need all the help I can get!"  
  
"I'm afraid there are limitations on what confidences I can share --"  
  
"You and that _fucking robot!"_ Rhodey snarled, slamming a hand on his desk. The sound echoed even over the communication line.

"I gather that you and JARVIS haven't had much contact since the palladium incident," Phil said.  
  
"I'm not speaking to it anymore," Rhodey said.

 _"Him,"_ Phil said sharply. He leaned forward. "You can fight with JARVIS if you find that justified, but depersonalization is unacceptable."  
  
Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Phil.  
  
Phil stood his ground.  
  
Eventually Rhodey sighed. "Fine. I'm not speaking to _him,_ because he knew that my best friend was _dying_ and didn't _tell me_ so that I could have helped instead of knocking Tony through a goddamn wall," Rhodey said.  
  
"I understand," Phil said. He settled back in his chair.  
  
"Do you? Really?" Rhodey said. "I knew something was wrong. I knew Tony was bullshitting me, because it's _Tony,_ my god you can't believe half what the man says, I expect that kind of idiocy from him. I don't expect it from his people too, we have to work with each other or Tony is fucking _impossible_ to manage, you of all people should know that."  
  
"I do know," Phil said. "JARVIS never said anything to me either. At that point, I didn't even know he was a _person,_ rather than just Tony's elaborate security system." Out of sight from the screen, Phil's thumb traced the case of the Starkphone in his pocket.

Rhodey gave him a bitter smile. "Sneaky little fuck, isn't he?"  
  
"Where I come from, that's a compliment," Phil said blandly.

"I should have been there for Tony. He needed me," Rhodey said. "But he didn't trust me enough to keep me in the loop, and the only person who knew the real situation was content to stand back and let me make things worse for Tony." Rhodey threw up his hands. "JARVIS _lied_ to me, so I made a bunch of wrong decisions, and it got Tony hurt. Heartless cybernetic bastard! How am I supposed to keep Tony safe if I don't even know what's going on?"  
  
"JARVIS and I talked about that," Phil said. "He explained that Tony tends to keep secrets because people often react badly when he reveals things to them. JARVIS felt that it was vital for Tony to have a confidant whom he trusts completely, rather than damage their relationship by violating Tony's trust in his discretion. It would be worse if Tony trusted no one at all, had nowhere to turn when he needs help."  
  
Rhodey looked away. "Well. Guess I can't argue with that one. I still hate it, though -- the secrecy, I mean, not JARVIS." He sighed. "I suppose I owe him an apology."  
  
"I suppose you do," Phil agreed. "Now, how do you think JARVIS felt, knowing that Tony -- his _father_ \-- was dying and had _forbidden him to call for help?"_  
  
Rhodey's milk-chocolate skin paled a shade at that. "Must've been awful," he said hoarsely. "It's just, Tony takes a lot of looking after, you know?"  
  
"I know," Phil said, his voice turning wry. "Talk with JARVIS, Rhodey, if you want to help. He probably has an apology for you too. Tony doesn't have many friends, and it hurts him when they don't get along, at least enough to be civil."  
  
"Yeah, Tony hardly knows what to do when he has two friends together -- I mean _real_ friends, not just people who want to fuck him or sell him something," Rhodey said.  
  
"He's learning," Phil said. "Have a little faith in Tony. He's making up for a lot of lost opportunities. He just needs our support."  
  
"I want to be there for him, but I just can't anymore, not like I used to," Rhodey said. "The Air Force is still pissed with me about Afghanistan and then the whole Hammer fiasco. That makes everything harder."  
  
"If you want to offer JARVIS a more concrete apology than mere words, you might consider letting him help with that. I know that Tony and I aren't the only ones who have offered, and JARVIS can be exquisitely subtle," Phil said.  
  
"I'll think about that," Rhodey said. "It's just ... I _miss_ Tony. We fight a lot, but he's still my best friend. He needs somebody to have his back. I don't even know how he's doing these days, aside from what I see in the news. We've barely had a chance to talk and he's still sore about what happened at his party."  
  
"I've heard about the infamous party," Phil said.

Rhodey gave a bleak laugh. "The hell of it is, that isn't even the most smashed I've seen him at a party. The things I had to fish that kid out of in college, you would not believe. I hope he's not in another one of those drink-himself-to-death phases."  
  
"Take another look at his recent appearances," Phil said gently. "There are things I can't tell you, but I think you know Tony well enough to pick up some of them if you watch him closely. You might also want to review what you know of him from your time together, and combine that with some public information about his family. That may help you understand why Tony does some of the things he does."  
  
"Okay. Thanks for the tip," Rhodey said. Then, very softly, he added, "Take care of him for me, would you?"  
  
"Always," Phil said.

After that conversation, Phil went back to answering his email. MI5 wanted to send over a liaison. That sounded like an excellent idea. Phil filled out the paperwork for his end and sent it back. It would take a little while for them to choose someone, but hopefully this would improve cooperation between the two organizations.

Then Clint sent a note indicating that they were ready to review the footage of the recruits. Phil tidied up his desk and headed for the meeting room near the practice areas that Clint had claimed for today's project.

When Phil arrived, he found Clint and Bruce leaning over a screen, watching the video. Bruce reached out to circle something. Clint nodded, but a subtle tension in his shoulders made Phil frown. "Everything all right down here?" Phil asked.

"Fine," Clint said, intent on the screen. He tapped in a command to back it up to the beginning. "Okay, this first bit has clips of everyone practicing hand-to-hand, so you can see how they move."

Phil watched. "Those two look promising," he said. "The tall man there, Wesson; and the fastest of the women, Clark."

"Yeah, there's a bit later where she dumps Meyer on the mat," Clint said. "He doesn't take it well, either."

"That loses him points." Phil made a note.

"Brown makes up for it," Bruce said. "He treats every opponent with the same respect, male or female, win or lose."

"We can use that," Phil agreed. "Hmm ... I see a couple of natural pairs forming up. See those two of the women, Brooks and Moore; and another two of the men, Jackson and Johnson." He reached out to circle them with the program's annotation feature. "Let's give them a chance to work together and see if they stick."

"Next I ran the recruits through basic drills in the shooting range, first with guns, then with archery," Clint said as he switched to a new video "This other guy, Gable, was all hot to test out a bow. He's a lousy shot, but he sure is enthusiastic about trying new things. Now this is where things get interesting ..."

The camera centered on the quiver as Gable reached for another arrow. With a soft _pop!_ red paint flew everywhere, spattering half the recruits. Gable reached back, then saw the vivid smears on his hand.

He dropped to the floor screaming.

"Shit, did he actually get hurt?" Phil asked, leaning forward.

"No, but that's what we thought too," Bruce said. "Look at this." He paused the video, turned on the annotations, and a circle appeared around Gable's hand.  
  
"He signed _okay,"_ Phil realized.

"Yep, it's all acting," Clint said. "It's pretty hammy, but he sells the hell out of it. I think we should tap him for Distractions. I'd almost be willing to shoot over this guy right now."

"I wonder where he learned that," Phil said. "I didn't see anything in his file --"

"It's in there, just buried in the old educational section. He went for Drama Club in high school," Clint said.

"We can certainly build on that. I'll send a note to Distractions," said Phil. That department never got enough dedicated agents, because most of them wanted to do more exciting things. You couldn't have the dagger without the cloak, though, and Distractions pulled its weight in ways that most agents never fully understood. Clint and Natasha had a soft spot for it due to their backgrounds, and both had taken that position for a few missions earlier in their careers.

"Now watch the first aid action," Bruce said as he turned the video back on.  
  
Clark reached the screaming man first. They could see the sharp flare of anger when she realized he was faking the injury, and then the more thoughtful look as she decided to go along with it. She rolled him carefully onto his belly to access the largest mass of red. At the same time, Clark called for a first aid kit and told the other recruits to check each other for injuries. Meyer alternated between yelling at Gable and Clark, and giving contradictory orders to the rest.

"Washout," Phil said. "We do not need that kind of power play."

"That's what Clint and I said too," Bruce agreed. "Check out what Brown does here."

Brown had gone for the first aid kit. When he popped it open, he froze for a moment. Then he unpacked the whole kit very methodically, handkerchiefs to scotch, even the odd things like the sandwich baggies and dental floss. He did his best to help Clark "patch up" the howling, thrashing Gable. His motions were clumsy at times, but he never flinched, even when Gable accidentally elbowed him in the face. Clark seemed more confident.

Bruce tapped the screen, pausing it again. "Pull that guy for medic training."

"Who, Brown? Seriously? He doesn't know what he's doing," Phil said.

"No, but he's steady and willing," Bruce said.  
  
"He's got no training," Phil pointed out.

"I'll bet you that's lack of opportunity, not lack of interest," Bruce said. "Phil, trust me on this. Brown has good instincts. Get him the training to develop that, and you'll have a field medic who won't do stupid shit like cut the skin off somebody's prosthetic arm just because he doesn't recognize the thing."

"All right then, we'll offer him medical training and see how he does," Phil said. "Roll it."

Phil was pleased to note that his potential teams seemed to stick by each other under stress. The two men had both gotten splashed with paint, and the pair of women moved to assist them. "Possible foursquare, even; we don't see many of those this early," Phil observed. "Also, I think Clark shows leadership potential. She gets snappish with Meyer, but she doesn't let it turn into a real fight. No extra training needed yet, but we'll keep an eye on her."

"I agree," Clint said. At the end of the video, he restarted it again. "There's one more thing I want to show you. It goes by really fast." He froze the show right after the marker arrow burst. "See how everybody's looking at Gable? Except Wesson." Clint brought up the annotation for line of sight.

"What's he looking at?" Phil asked.

"Me," Clint said. "Wesson figured out that I must have rigged the thing to blow. His eyes went right to me, picked me out as a possible threat. I think we should bring him up as a sniper."

Phil checked the files. "His range scores are above average, but not great. Meyer did considerably better."

"Meyer's a wash, you said it yourself. Wesson has the eyes. He should make a good scope man," Clint said.

Phil thought about the scores, then imagined Wesson with a tripod and a scope. Different snipers had different preferences -- Clint with a bow, Bucky with heavy guns, and Phil himself could coax more accuracy out of a handgun than it was really meant to deliver. With Wesson's height, he could handle a long gun well. "It's worth a try," Phil said.

"So ... we did okay?" Bruce asked softly.

"You did a great job," Phil said. "Here, let's drop the guy with the lowest performance score too. Now we've got ten left out of twelve recruits. Three of those go for specialized training. One we line up with leadership opportunities. Two pairs look promising for teamwork. The last couple haven't distinguished themselves, but we'll see if they pan out." Phil leaned over to pat Bruce's hand. "Clint and I probably wouldn't have spotted Brown's potential without you."

"Clark just did better because she's got first aid training already," Bruce said.

"That may be so," Phil agreed. He used his Starkphone to do the preliminary paperwork for assigning the recruits.

Clint sighed, fingers tapping restlessly as he filled out his own forms for the range work.

"Would you like to tell me what's bothering you, Clint?" asked Phil.

"Nothing to report, sir."

Now Bruce sighed.

"Bruce, do you have anything to add to that?" Phil prompted.

"There was ... an encounter with another agent," Bruce said. "I guess it could have gone better."

"Clint, if someone is threatening you, I need to know about that," Phil said.

"No threat, sir."

_"Clint."_

"Can we please not talk about this now?" Clint said.

"All right, but we _are_ going to discuss it later," Phil said. Clint grumbled, but made no further comment as they returned to their paperwork.

A while later, Bucky arrived, dressed in a fresh SHIELD-issue jogging suit with his own clothes in a mesh bag dangling from one hand. Water dripped from his damp hair into the towel slung around his neck. "Hey, fellas," he said, stretching lazily as he sat down.

"Hey yourself," Clint said. "We're about done with the paper-pushing. How'd your day go?"

"We played basketball, sat in the sauna, and then showered off," Bucky said. "Dr. Samson is ... not like any shrink I ever met before. We talked, but he didn't really do anything. It was just, you know, two fellas talking." He looked baffled, but his body language was relaxed and open.

"How do you feel now?" Phil asked.

"Pretty great, actually. It was fun to play basketball on a court that had actual lines on the ground, and a hoop with a net on it," Bucky said. "Do we have that at home?"

"If we don't, I'm sure Tony can arrange it," Phil assured him.

"There's a racketball court," Clint said. "Tony and Happy play. I think Tony just likes the noise that the ball makes bouncing around, because he's not very good at it."

"The arc reactor changes how Tony can move his arms," Bruce said quietly. "It's not much, but it's enough to mess with aim that he developed before he got it. That doesn't affect the repulsors because he learned those afterwards."

"And JARVIS aims the shoulder guns. Shit. How did I not see this?" Clint said.

"Because only part of it falls into your area of expertise," Bruce said. "Don't bother Tony about it, okay? You know how he gets about the arc reactor."

"Yeah, I know," Clint said. "Well, that's me done with the paperwork." He shut off his Starkphone and pocketed it.

"I'm done too," Phil said. "Let's head out."

"Assistant Director Hill wanted to show me a list of things from storage," Bucky reminded them.

"Then we'll check with her next," Phil agreed.

Hill seemed happy to see them. "Sergeant Barnes, here's the list of personal effects," she said, handing him a printout filled with images and text. "Dr. Banner, thank you for joining in today's assessment project."

"It was his idea," Bruce muttered, his gaze flicking to Clint.

Clint just shrugged. "I call 'em how I see 'em."

"And that's why we pay you the big bucks," Hill said. Then she turned back to Bucky. "See anything you want to take home?"

"My old Bible and the photographs for sure," he said. "I can't believe Steve didn't want any of his stuff. That's not like him at all."

Hill sighed. "Captain Rogers was ... not altogether himself," she said delicately, "when I first offered him the chance to reclaim his possessions. I hoped that if I waited a while longer with you, it might turn out better. I was trying to reach a balance between not overloading you, and not withholding things you had a right to know."

"Yes ma'am, that's a good plan," said Bucky. Then he frowned over the list. "Wait, this isn't Steve's ... well, I guess it is now..."

"What?" Phil asked. Bucky pointed to the thumbnail image of a small metal case. "Oh, the mezuzah. I wondered about that, neither of you being Jewish."

"It belonged to Dr. Erskine," Bucky said. "Steve's gonna want that back for sure. He can't have read this list and missed it."  
"I showed him the list," Hill said. "I'm not sure he actually registered what it contained."

"Okay, could you just ... have everything boxed up and sent to Avengers Tower? We've got plenty of storage space, and then Steve and I can look through it whenever we feel ready," said Bucky.

"Of course," Hill said. "I'll pull out the items you wanted so that you can find them easily, and the rest can go in crates."  
"Thank you. This means a lot to me," Bucky said.

After that, they rode home. Bucky rolled the printout into a tube and pulled it through his fist, over and over again, as if to reassure himself of its presence. Bruce relaxed more, the farther they got from SHIELD territory. Clint still seemed edgy and restless.  
  
"I really wish you'd tell me what's bothering you, Clint," said Phil.

Clint hunched into his seat. "Just Agent Morse making a pass at me again," he said. "She thinks it's a shame to waste my flexibility."

Bruce rested a hand on Clint's knee. Clint leaned into him. "You shouldn't have to put up with her if she's bothering you," Bruce said.

"He _doesn't_ have to put up with her," Phil said. "She's been written up for it once already. Clint, we've talked about this --"

"Well maybe I'd rather deal with the bitch myself than do a mountain of fucking paperwork!" Clint snapped.

"Speaking of paperwork, what forms do we need to fill out for claiming personal effects from SHIELD?" asked Bucky.  
  
It was an obvious diversion, but a valiant attempt to take some pressure off Clint. Phil let it play out. He just resolved to ask Clint again as soon as they reached the tower. "There will be several forms for you and for Steve, but nothing too elaborate," Phil said. "I may need to do a little fancy footwork if Steve won't sign for his part of the goods, but I agree with you that moving everything to the tower makes sense. I'm always happy to help my team with their paperwork."

When they arrived, they went up to the common floor. "I'm thinking pot roast for supper," Bucky said. "Is that okay with you fellas?"

"I'm good with it," Clint said, and everyone else nodded.

"It's a plan, then. I'll go find Steve to help me set it up," said Bucky as he headed for the door.  
  
"Clint, we really need to talk about that incident involving Agent Morse," Phil said.

 _"Why?"_ Clint said. "Why am _I_ always the one who has to deal with this shit? I fucking handled it, let it drop."

"I can't let it drop, because if Agent Morse is harassing you, then chances are she'll try the same thing against someone _less_ capable of 'handling' it himself," Phil said.

"I just hate this paperwork, Phil, it's humiliating," said Clint. "I had no trouble shaking her off." He flicked his wrist, shadows shifting in a way that snagged Phil's attention.

"Are those bruises?" Phil asked.

Bruce's head came up. Suddenly he stopped ghosting in the background like usual. "Let me see."

"It's nothing," Clint said, but he was frowning at his own wrist now.

"I saw her take hold of you, and I saw you pull away," Bruce said. "Let me see your wrist, Clint."

"All I did was twist my hand to pop her thumb loose, and keep walking," Clint said. "I guess ... I didn't realize how hard she was holding on."

 _Because Clint's arm strength is so developed, it takes tremendous resistance even to register for him,_ Phil realized. He pulled out the first aid kit, just in case.

Meanwhile Bruce had finally coaxed Clint into surrendering his wrist for examination. After a few moments of gentle prodding, Bruce declared, "It's just surface bruising. But I can see clear imprints of her thumb and at least two fingers. Let me put something on that so you won't wind up with a really colorful bracelet for a week."

"Fine, whatever," Clint grumbled. He held still while Bruce smoothed a coat of something spicy and creamy over the faintly blue-tinged skin.

"Okay, you're done," Bruce said as he packed away the supplies. "If you need me for anything else, I'll be in my quarters. I think I need some quiet time before supper. It's ... been a day." He slipped out of the room.

Phil looked at Clint's still-closed expression and sighed. He hated having to ask for something that Clint so clearly found upsetting. But it was that, or let Morse get away mistreating one -- or possibly more -- of his people. Phil was not about to stand for that.

Clint flopped onto the couch. "Let's just get this over with," he said, resignation thick in his tone. "The sex talk is bad enough without dragging it through the whole damn day."

"I'm sorry about the necessary unpleasantries," Phil said as he picked up the nearest Starkpad and opened the relevant forms. He sat at the far end of the couch, not crowding Clint, but within easy reach if Clint wanted contact comfort.

"Clint, remember that you are not the only asexual person in our household, since artificial intelligences do not reproduce sexually," JARVIS interrupted. "Would you feel more comfortable talking about this with me instead of with Phil?"

That solution hadn't even occurred to Phil. He waited silently to see how Clint would respond.

Clint shrugged. "It's sex. It's never going to be a comfortable conversation, not like this. I mean, it's one thing to joke around with Tony and Bucky, but Agent Morse just makes me feel ... I don't know, _dirty."_

A flicker drew Phil's attention down to the Starkpad in his lap, where JARVIS had just filled in a line on the form. In fact, the date and location were already listed too. _JARVIS must have been following this conversation for a while,_ Phil thought, _and possibly accessed the security feed from SHIELD too_.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Clint. Of course sex can be disconcerting. It sounds like this incident upset you considerably," said JARVIS. "Do you have any idea what brought it up?"

Clint scoffed. "She says I'm hot and I'm wasting my talent."

Another line typed itself into the form. Aloud JARVIS said in a perfectly arid tone, "How enlightening that Agent Morse finds _saving the world_ to be a waste of time."

Clint snickered and said, "Yeah, well, consider the source. According to the rumor mill, she's having no luck on her own line of research. Nobody wants to partner with her in the lab anymore. I'm not getting much gossip at SHIELD these days, so if even _I've_ heard it, then it must be all over."

More lines appeared in various sections of the form, followed by a list of Agent Morse's lab partners and a note to discuss their professional opinions of her. Hesitantly Phil touched the screen and got a cursor. It let him add a reminder to cross-reference other paperwork for possible corroboration. JARVIS indicated that there were no other harassment complaints against her at present. _But most harassment never gets reported, especially when a woman targets male victims,_ Phil thought grimly. _There might be something else_.

"Agent Morse seems professionally frustrated," JARVIS echoed.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it. She just doesn't know when to give up," Clint said. "I mean, when I get pissed at things, I don't take it out on my own team, you know? I find a way to deal. Or at least I take it out on _myself."_

Phil winced. He knew about Clint's periodic forays into self-harm, fortunately rare these days.

"And this isn't the first time it's happened," Clint went on. "The first time she asked, it was kind of flattering. I don't swing that way -- or any way -- but it's nice to be thought of rather than ignored. But she won't stop bugging me for a date, won't take no for an answer, no matter what I try."

"She won't stop asking you to date her," JARVIS said. "Do you think that might have anything to do with your feelings of discomfort?"

"Yeah, it's as if I'm not even talking to her and that's worse than being ignored in the first place," Clint said. "I feel like she's got this little Clint-puppet in her head doing all the lines and man, that is _creepy_. That is not a thing I want."

"What do you want?" JARVIS invited.

"I want her to leave me the fuck _alone,"_ Clint said, his voice sharpening. "I should be able to go to work without some chick nagging me like that, jeez, is that too much to ask?"

Phil watched in approval as the requested action part of the form filled in. He could look for methods to discourage Agent Morse from getting in the way again.

"Not according to SHIELD policies," JARVIS said. "You should be able to work free of nagging. What kind of nagging, Clint?"

"I dunno, just the way she looks at me, talks about my body, asks me to go places with her. I guess it's ... not much, really, when you lay it out like that. Maybe I'm oversensitive after the whole Loki thing, a lot of people have said that," Clint muttered. Then he rubbed his wrist. "The bruising is new, though. I don't think she meant it. I blew her off and she just tried to catch me. Stands to reason she'd be angry, I suppose."

"She tried to catch you," JARVIS said. "Have you seen her interacting with anyone else in a similar manner?"

"Naw, I seem to be the favorite," Clint said with a grimace. He leaned back against the cushions. "Morse is a nuisance ..."

Phil listened in wonder as JARVIS gently encouraged Clint to complain about Agent Morse. Clearly he was using the form as inspiration for the angle of investigation, but much of what JARVIS actually said was echoing Clint himself. While Clint wasn't _happy_ about the topic, he seemed a lot less stressed than usual, and downright enthusiastic about verbally poking holes in Agent Morse.

Form complete, Phil held out the Starkpad to Clint. "Okay, all I need is your signature and we're done here."

"We are?" Clint said, startled. "But I ... we didn't ..." He stared down at the completed form. "Oh well, that's a relief. I'm not arguing with success." He scribbled his signature and handed the pad back to Phil.

"Thank you, Clint. I appreciate your patience," Phil said.

"If you wish to drop this topic, that is perfectly acceptable. However, if you would like someone to talk with, I am always available," JARVIS added.

"Okay. Listen, I could sure use a break before supper. I'm going to go curl up in my couch now," Clint said. Phil knew the one he meant, a deep soft thing with a floppy back that folded over like a blanket. Clint gave Phil a brief hug and then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soldiers are trained to depersonalize the enemy](http://www.psychologicalscience.org/publications/observer/2006/august-06/bad-apples-or-bad-barrels-zimbardo-on-the-lucifer-effect.html), so they will be willing to kill people; but when this goes too far, atrocities can result. What Rhodey does to JARVIS is not just depersonalization but also [misgendering](http://www.salon.com/2016/02/10/gender_neutral_pronouns_partner/). You can see how fucked up their relationship is.
> 
> [Parentification](http://outofthefog.website/top-100-trait-blog/2015/11/4/parentification) happens when a child has to take care of younger children because the parents can't or won't.  It tends to leave a lasting imprint that shows in ways like Rhodey treating Tony as a child because Tony often behaves in childish ways. Meanwhile Tony rebels because he's had poor experiences with authority. In canon that's a very dysfunctional part of their relationship, but is portrayed positively.
> 
> Although it's better to use deliberate first aid supplies, [they can be improvised](http://readynutrition.com/resources/when-all-else-fails-a-few-improvised-first-aid-materials_16072014/). Most of the Avengers have had to do that.
> 
> [A mezuzah](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mezuzah) is a scroll of Torah verses, traditionally attached to the door of a Jewish home. Occasionally you see cases like what happened with Steve and [Dr. Erskine](http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/Abraham_Erskine), in which a Jew leaves their mezuzah to a non-Jewish friend. Some people hang those, others don't.
> 
> [Agent Bobbi Morse aka Mockingbird](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mockingbird_\(Marvel_Comics\)) appears in Marvel comics across many variations. In this iteration, she is a SHIELD agent and scientist who's been dabbling in ethically questionable materials with dubious results. Her personal behavior is just plain wrong.
> 
> The wrist grab is a basic but weak attack, due to the inescapable physics of the human hand: if you know how, you can always [pop it open between the thumb and forefinger](http://www.fightingarts.com/reading/article.php?id=234). Watch a [video demonstrating several wrist escapes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjUJGiZd2nY).
> 
> [Sexual harassment](http://www1.umn.edu/humanrts/svaw/harassment/explore/1whatis.htm) is unwanted carnal or romantic attention. It can cause serious problems at work, [and is thus illegal](http://www.aauw.org/what-we-do/legal-resources/know-your-rights-at-work/workplace-sexual-harassment/). Sadly, it remains quite common. There are [ways for employers to handle this](http://www.nationalforum.com/Electronic%20Journal%20Volumes/Lunenburg,%20Fred%20C.%20Sexual%20Harassment-An%20Abuse%20of%20Power%20IJMBA%20V13%20N1%202010.pdf). One frequent complication is what happens here -- the victim perceives filing a complaint to be an additional violation, but without formal record of the offense there can be no official sanction. A complaint form typically identifies [who and what happened](http://%20http://www.schreiner.edu/about/hr/docs/2012/harassment_complaint_form.pdf), along with [requested solutions](http://www.westchestergov.com/hr/adobe/ComplaintForm-SexualHarassment.pdf).
> 
> [Talking Eliza](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ELIZA) is a famous computer program based on [simplistic yet surprisingly effective conversational routines](http://www.manifestation.com/neurotoys/eliza.php3). Since it can work even with a rote bot, it doesn't take much personality for it to start working quite well indeed. JARVIS uses [mirroring](http://www.skillsyouneed.com/ips/reflecting.html), one of several reflective techniques for conversation. It's just better aimed because he knows what he's doing.
> 
> One valuable technique in psychological first aid is [how to drain emotional wounds](https://hbr.org/2013/05/how-to-listen-when-someone-is). There's a very delicate art to coaxing someone to vent as much as they need, which relieves the pressure, so that problem-solving can begin -- without doing further damage in the process. JARVIS has a level yet gentle personality well suited to this.
> 
> [Clint's couch](https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2014-02/enhanced/webdr05/4/15/enhanced-buzz-20527-1391544877-6.jpg) has a floppy top that folds over the user.


	3. Early Programming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS explains some of his conversational routines to Phil. Steve tries several art exercises, but finds the modern tablet frustrating. There is delicious supper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all the end notes fit, so I moved some here.
> 
>  
> 
> [Digital art](http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-digital-art.htm) is made with pixels instead of pigment. Read an exploration of [digital brush strokes](http://www.digitalartguild.com/content/view/60/26/) and of [graphic tablets](http://%20http://mark.dustyghost.com/tutorials/graphics-tablet-making-the-change/). Learn how to [make digital art](http://%20http://www.wikihow.com/Make-Digital-Art). There are [exercises for digital art therapy](http://www.cathymalchiodi.com/art-therapy-resources/digital-art-therapy-2/) too.
> 
> JARVIS introduces Phil to [Tony's proprietary keyboard](https://neverfeltbetter.wordpress.com/2014/09/22/in-detail-iron-man-working-on-something-big-54-14-01-01-11/), which uses completely different symbols and configuration than a standard keyboard, with a circular field on the left and a shallower arc to the right. (Also notice that [Tony is ambidextrous in the trashcan clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D156TfHpE1Q), again suggesting that he can use both hands independently with a high level of dexterity.) [Keyboards have evolved](http://www.daskeyboard.com/blog/typing-through-time-the-history-of-the-keyboard/) considerably over time. Some are [very strange](http://www.theendearingdesigner.com/creative-and-unique-computer-keyboards). Over in [Polychrome Heroics](http://penultimateproductions.weebly.com/polychrome-heroics.html) I have two characters, [Qwerty and Dvorak](https://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/10726542.html), respectively named after a conventional keyboard and one of the more popular exotics.

"I confess that I'm fascinated by how you extracted so much information with so little effort or stress," Phil said to JARVIS. "I wonder where you learned that."

"Part of it comes from working with sir, who often keeps secrets," said JARVIS. "Another part comes from my early programming."

"That sounds interesting. What early programming?" Phil asked.

"You would laugh, if I told you," JARVIS said.

"I promise not to laugh," Phil said.  
  
"Talking Eliza."  
  
Phil did not laugh. He did smile a bit. "JARVIS, that's mirroring," he said.  
  
"I did make that connection, years later when I grew sophisticated enough to explore psychological resources," JARVIS said.

"I've really only dabbled in mirroring," Phil mused. "Maybe I should give it more attention."  
  
"Bruce does it too," JARVIS added.  
  
Phil thought about Bruce's gentle, lulling voice and how comfortable it was to talk with him. He was a good listener without seeming to pry. _I'll definitely give that mirroring more attention,_ Phil decided.

Steve drifted into the common room from the kitchen where he and Bucky had been setting up supper. "Hey, Phil," he said as he sat down on the couch. A small frown line runkled the skin between his eyebrows.

"Is something wrong?" Phil asked.

"I dunno," Steve said slowly. "I heard some of what went on with Clint, but it's ... hard to pin down. I mean, it didn't sound like much happened, but he seemed really upset about it. I don't know what to make of it."

"Well, JARVIS and I are taking care of the paperwork. I think Clint feels a little better now," Phil said. "It might help you to know that the issue was less about the actions, than about the fact that they were known to be unwelcome but continued anyway."

"I guess that makes sense," Steve said. "Agent Morse has made a few remarks to me, but I told her I wasn't interested and she hasn't really pushed it."

"Not interested in her specifically, or not interested in general?" Phil asked.

"I'm not really sure," Steve said. "Before, I was so weedy, dames hardly looked twice at me. I spent more time chatting with the other wallflowers than I ever did dancing. Dames don't like a guy they might step on. Bucky always made sure to get me a date, whenever we went out together, but it just never clicked. Then after this happened --" Steve waved a hand at his handsome body. "-- everything changed, and some dames got pretty, um, _forward."  
_  
"I hope no one got hurt," Phil said.

"No, it was just embarrassing," Steve said. "I know some fellas liked to have a girl in every port, but that wasn't me." He shook his head. "I like to get to know people before I start thinking about anything serious. I thought I might have a chance with Peggy, but ... you know how that ended."

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry, Steve," said Phil. He put a hand on Steve's knee. "Maybe you'll find that spark of potential with someone else, and then you can see where it goes."

"I hope so," Steve said. "Still, it kinda worries me. I haven't felt anything like that since they pulled me out of the ice. At least with a few of the dames Bucky found for me, there was something -- I felt curious about them. None of them liked me, though. Maybe that part of me froze up and just never thawed out. That's a lonely thought."

Phil shifted his touch wrap an arm behind Steve's shoulders. "It's okay if you don't feel attracted to anyone," Phil said. "If you're feeling lonesome for romantic company, that's a sign that you probably are or will be open to it. You may not have met the right person yet, or you may not be ready for that kind of intimacy. You took some bad hits emotionally; that can take a while to recover enough to let someone new into your life."

"Yeah. That's true. I miss ... everyone," Steve said.

"Of course you do. You're making new connections now, though. That's progress," Phil said.

"Just moving into the tower has helped a lot. I have the team, but I also see other folks when I'm coming in and out," Steve said.

"That's good," Phil said. "I could find you some reading material about contemporary standards and sexuality. There's more written information now than what you probably remember."

Steve's cheeks pinked a little. "Tony told me about online dating. It sounded so weird. I can't imagine doing that with someone I haven't even _met."_

"It's not for everyone," Phil said easily. "There's no pressure, just options."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to look," Steve said. He leaned against Phil for reassurance.

Bucky came in from the kitchen. "What's up, runt?" he asked.

"Just talking with Phil about people stuff," Steve said. He sat up. "Is there another Starkpad around here? JARVIS found me some digital art exercises earlier, and I wanted to try them."

JARVIS replied, "There is one in the drawer of the end table beside sir's favorite chair."

"You don't mind if I practice a bit, do you?" Steve asked Phil, as he went to retrieve the device. It was one of the larger kind that Tony used for engineering work and Steve sometimes used for art, rather than the standard model.

"I don't mind," Phil said. "I've got things I can work on myself." He tapped a command on his Starkpad to bring up the next lesson in quaternary code. The screen filled with the arcane squiggles of Tony's proprietary language.  
  
Along with that came a glowing blue hologram of Tony's personal keyboard, which of course looked nothing like a classic QWERTY. It wasn't even labeled in English. Instead, it had a circular section on the left with a wider, shallower arc on the right, all marked out with obscure symbols. Hesitantly Phil set his fingers over the luminous keys and began working through a typing exercise. JARVIS would light up a symbol on the pad and then Phil had to find it on the keyboard.  
  
Steve and Bucky had settled on the loveseat. Steve had the big Starkpad balanced on his knees. Bucky was exploring a detailed hologram of a sniper rifle, meticulously detaching sections to expand them for a closer look.

Faint smells of supper were wafting out of the kitchen. Phil could pick out the deep meaty note of the pot roast along with something sweeter and fruity that must be dessert. _That smells delicious,_ he mused. The scent of food cooking helped him to relax.

"Darn this thing!" Steve grumbled, clacking the stylus against the screen.

"Gently, Steve; it's like a paintbrush, not an ice pick," JARVIS reminded him. "You need to practice your point control because the texture feels different to you when you move it. You still have the ability to make heavier or lighter strokes based on pressure. It just doesn't take as _much_ pressure. Here, let's switch from the line exercises to one on intensity."

"Yeah, okay," Steve said. He lifted the stylus, shifted his position, and then returned the point to the screen. His hand moved in smooth, careful arcs. "I feel so stupid, though. I should be able to _do_ this, it's just art."

"No putting yourself down like that," Bucky said without looking up from his ghostly rifle.

"Any new medium takes time to learn, let alone master. As an artist, you know this; you are simply overlooking it at the moment," JARVIS said. "Besides, you have missed the incremental changes in technology that have allowed people growing up with it to adapt easily. The much larger gap is more challenging for you."

"It bothers me too, and at least I have _some_ memory from the past seventy years," Bucky said quietly.

"I guess. Pencils have always been easy for me. Learning to paint was harder, though, and I still haven't gotten the hang of watercolors," Steve said. He frowned at the screen. "You know, you don't have to keep giving me the comparisons. It seems like I'm wasting an awful lot of your time with this."

"First, you will learn faster with feedback. I can turn it off if you find it discouraging, though," JARVIS said. "Second, I do not mind assisting you. I enjoy it and it fulfills my sense of purpose. Third, time spent gaining a new skill is never wasted. Fourth, the data that I gather from working with you goes into my master database on human learning processes, which I use for fine-tuning user interactions and which sir and I use in compiling both hardware and software for users of different ability levels. It is most valuable."

"I didn't know all that," Steve said quietly. He spiraled the stylus over the Starkpad in sinuous loops. "Go ahead and leave the feedback function on. Thanks for that. You're right, it does help. I just don't want to be a bother."

"You are never that," Phil and JARVIS chorused.

"I kinda like you as a pest," Bucky said. He reached out to ruffle Steve's hair, which fell back into almost-perfect lines. Steve gave him a playful shove.

Phil kept working on his keyboard exercise. As he learned the symbols, they started to appear in short strings. Gradually the strings grew longer. A small box on the Starkpad kept track of his accuracy. It wasn't very impressive yet, but it was rising slowly. _At least the different shape of the keyboard helps keep me from confusing it with a standard one,_ Phil thought.

Bucky's fingers danced in deft patterns around and through the lines of glowing blue light. Steve's stylus clicked and whispered against the smooth hard surface of the Starkpad. It sounded different from the scratch and rustle of charcoal on paper. Phil liked it in its own way.

"Much better, Steve," JARVIS said after a few minutes. "That feels far more precise now. You have the control you need; it's just a matter of adapting to this set of tools."

"JARVIS, can you ... actually _feel_ what I'm doing here?" Steve asked.

"That is a touch-sensitive screen, so yes," JARVIS said. "The larger model has far more tactile reception than the smaller, standard model. But I can feel you even through a touchscreen phone, which is less sensitive than a Starkpad."

Phil startled. He hadn't thought of that, but it made perfect sense. JARVIS wove throughout the tower, connecting all of its technology, along with the individual bits of Starktech that everyone used. "Remarkable," Phil murmured, as his fingertips picked out familiar symbols on his own pad. They brightened under his touch in silent recognition.

"You don't mind?" Steve said.

"I enjoy working with you," JARVIS said. "Your strokes are rhythmic and soothing, and I find them aesthetically attractive."  
Phil chuckled. "You make it sound like Steve is petting a cat."

"The comparison is not unreasonable," JARVIS agreed, a hint of purr in his voice.

"Guess I better get back to work, then," Steve said. He was a little hesitant about setting stylus to screen again, but soon lost himself in the exercise.

Eventually Phil completed his own lesson. The exotic symbols and keyboard were a challenge, but he felt confident that he could become fluent after enough practice. He glanced back over previous lessons and noted his progress in learning the proprietary language that Tony used.  
  
Supper smelled more delectable than ever. It was starting to make Phil's mouth water. _I wonder how much longer it needs to cook,_ he thought.

Then Phil turned his attention to paperwork. He filled out the last few lines of the sexual harassment form. That got him thinking about something else. "JARVIS? You were very helpful with this earlier. I wanted to thank you," Phil said.

"You are welcome. I am always alert for opportunities to assist. Besides, Clint is my friend. I dislike it when people annoy him," said JARVIS.

"I was just thinking about the 'assist' command, actually," said Phil. "It's a request for freeform help when a user doesn't know what is really needed, just has some kind of goal in mind. Right?"

"That is correct," JARVIS said.

"Almost all of your interactions with other people are help-based in one way or another," Phil pointed out.

"That is my purpose," JARVIS said.

"That's your _job,"_ Phil agreed, "but there's more to you than your job. You said it yourself -- Clint is your friend. I'm wondering if there's some way to include you in our socializing more often, or more openly, or something like that."

"I do not require it," JARVIS said softly. "I am always here."

Steve looked up from his artwork. "Yeah, but Phil's right. Most of the time you just watch, you don't say anything. It's not often that you come out and really hang with us. I'd kinda like to see more of that, if you don't mind."

"You help me out a lot," Bucky said to JARVIS. "I think you should get more back from that than you do, and I'd like to get to know you better too."

"Some people considered Talking Eliza to have the qualities of a good friend," JARVIS said. "It was just a rote program, no real finesse at all, but it followed certain guidelines for a good listener. Perhaps ... something like that? A conversational routine, but with more nuance, if someone desires company?"

"That's one possible aspect," Phil said. "How do you feel about that? How would you approach it as a coding project? I know you can modify your own code."

"I suppose I have no objection, but I am uncertain how to proceed," JARVIS said.

"Well, it's not urgent," Phil said. "We can discuss it with Tony. Maybe he'll have some ideas." Phil returned his attention to paperwork, deftly filling out a few more forms from the day's activities. He kept a casual eye on Steve and Bucky as he worked.

Bucky finished whatever he was doing with the holographic rifle and put away the image. Then he stretched, shoulders popping. "Show me what you've got," he said to Steve.

"Just exercises," Steve said with a shrug.

"Yeah, so? I wanna see how you're doing," Bucky said.

Steve obligingly tilted the large pad in his direction. "Sure," he said.

Bucky gazed at it for a minute, then said, "Hey runt, remember those pictures we used to make in art class at the orphanage? Drawing lines around leaves, or even just random dots on the paper?"  
  
"Those were fun," Steve said with a nod.

"I bet you could practice with something like that, and it would be more interesting than just doing lines by themselves," Bucky said.

"Contour line exercises would be a next logical step," said JARVIS.

"I could try," Steve said. "I'm just frustrated because I want to do real art on a tablet, and I can't do that with just dots and lines, and my control stinks anyway."

"As a matter of fact, Australian Aboriginal art relies primarily on dots and lines to create vivid stylized images," said JARVIS.

Phil could see that the display must have changed, colored light reflecting against Steve's pale shirt. "Wow," Steve said softly. "That's really swell."

A timer chimed in the kitchen. Bucky patted Steve on the knee. "Enough practice for now," Bucky said. "Come help me check supper."

Phil hastened to finish his current form. He saved it, filed everything, and turned off the Starkpad. More fragrant steam wafted through the air, making Phil's stomach growl. He headed into the kitchen.

Bucky leaned over the pot roast, studiously poking the vegetables with a fork. "Yeah, this is done. JARVIS, ring the dinner bell, please."

A triangle sound-effect jangled enticingly, and JARVIS announced supper. Phil knew that would bring the other Avengers pouring into the kitchen soon. "What can I do to help?" he asked.

"Set the table," Steve suggested as he pulled a pan out of the oven. Placing a crystal cake platter over the top, he deftly flipped the whole arrangement, then lifted away the pan to reveal a pineapple upside-down cake. Steve carried it past Phil and set it on the table.

Phil piled up enough dinner plates and added them to the table. Surreptitiously he ran a fingertip under the rim of the cake plate to find the Stark Industries logo, assuring himself that it was the shatterproof replica and not the original Waterford. Tony had been gradually replacing most of the kitchenware with more durable materials in consideration of teammates with enhanced strength. Phil finished setting out the plates and went back for silverware.

Bucky lifted the pot roast onto a platter, then scooped the assorted vegetables into a large bowl. Carefully he poured the still-boiling beef broth into a soup tureen.

Betty and Bruce arrived arm-in-arm. "Do you need more hands?" she asked.

"Maybe put out a loaf of bread," Bucky suggested, at the same time Steve said, "Beverages, please." Betty went for the bread at the same time Bruce headed to the refrigerator for drinks.

Phil finished setting the table and moved to help Bucky transport the various things that had come out of the roasting pan. Steve dealt a stack of ceramic trivets onto the table as if they were playing cards, each one landing neatly where he aimed it. Clint and Natasha applauded from the doorway.

Tony dodged between them, making a beeline for the cake. "That's dessert, Tony, eat your supper first," Phil said, gently shooing him away.

Soon everything was on the table and the Avengers all seated around it. Clint went right for the pot roast. Bucky also cut himself a generous hunk of meat. Tony poked through the vegetables to find a few favorites. Steve lined his plate with bread, piled vegetables on top, and then carefully slivered one thick slice of meat so that it covered the pile. Finally he poured broth over everything, stopping only when the plate threatened to overflow. Phil waited patiently until he could get at the food without having to reach through a jungle of arms.

Betty and Bruce carried on an animated conversation about some project of theirs involving mirrors. Tony listened, so rapt in thought that Bucky had to keep elbowing him and reminding him to eat. Clint and Bucky regaled Natasha with stories about the new recruits at SHIELD. Phil concentrated on his food, the pot roast so tender that he could cut it with his fork, the vegetables savory and enriched with beefy notes.

Bucky's description of playing basketball with Dr. Samson made Betty laugh. "How badly did you beat him?"

"How did you know who won?" Bucky asked, shaking his head in amazement.

"Leonard loves horsing around on a court with a ball in his hands, but he's not very good at it. I always beat him, and I'm years out of practice," she said with a fond smile.

"We enjoyed ourselves. Didn't really keep score, but I know I made more baskets," Bucky said, rolling his shoulders with the memory. "It's not like I ever played for real. Steve usually couldn't, when we were little, and I didn't feel safe leaving him alone for long. Dr. Samson and I just threw the ball around and bounced off each other a bunch of times. Then we talked a bit."

Phil quietly admired Dr. Samson's skill at laying a solid foundation of trust. _That should help Bucky open up,_ he thought.

"We should play a few games, Bucky, now that I can," Steve said.

"You're taller and faster than me, and you're smart enough to pick up the moves pretty quick," Bucky said. "I doubt I'd challenge you for very long."

"Two on one," Betty suggested. "Me and Steve against you, until he learns the game. Then you and me against Steve, to balance out his advantages."

Bucky shrugged. "Sure, it's worth a try."

_It's also a savvy introduction to small-scale teamwork,_ Phil noticed. _Betty must be making good headway on those handler materials I sent her earlier_. Phil knew that Betty used to play basketball in high school -- he'd seen a note in her file -- and now he wondered how much that had contributed to her skill at self-defense.  
  
Betty turned back to Bruce, then, intent on arguing some point about the proportion of silver to glass. Tony had cleaned most of his plate, only to stall out again while mesmerized by science. It was adorable, in a geeky sort of way.

When the mirror conversation finally wound down, Phil snagged Tony's attention and said, "I'd like your help developing something for JARVIS. I got to thinking about the 'assist' function as freeform support. What do you think about creating a 'friendship' mode?"

"I don't know," Tony said, picking up a fresh piece of bread. At least he had finished his slice of pot roast first. "What do you want it to do?"

"Well, I'd like to encourage JARVIS to be more active socially, and encourage the team to include him in more of our activities," Phil said. "The catch is, most of the time JARVIS doesn't speak unless spoken to, and most of the interactions involve service rather than socializing. That's what put me in mind of 'assist' because it doesn't require specific direction, only a goal or a topic."

"JARVIS, are you okay with this idea?" Tony asked. Suddenly he looked at the piece of bread in his hand. "And do we have any apple butter? I want something sweet on this."

"I'll get it," Steve said, pushing away from the table. "Wouldn't mind a bit myself."

"Yes, sir," said JARVIS. "Phil broached the topic with me first, but I was uncertain how to implement it."

"You do realize that I have almost no experience with friendship as a concept," Tony said, glancing sideways at Phil.

"That's okay, Bucky and I can help with that part," Steve said as he put the apple butter in front of Tony.

"You have Rhodey and Happy," Natasha pointed out.

"I'm decent at computer programming _and_ familiar with social skills," Betty added.

"I think we can work it out, if we make it a team effort," Phil said. "Consider the privacy levels too -- usually we set them at a comfortable point and raise them as needed, but we don't often lower them beneath the standard. The friendship mode should account for a lower than average level, because we're inviting JARVIS to interact with us more. The higher privacy levels turn off a lot of things."

"Well, they have to," Tony said. He slathered apple butter over his bread. "The privacy controls are all about monitoring and intervention -- what he can see and hear, what he can touch and say."

"That's creepy," Bruce muttered. He helped himself to more of the vegetables. "I still can't get over the fact that there's spy stuff in the _bathrooms."_

"It's there because I need it sometimes," Tony said quietly. "Everyone else can just turn it off."

"Yeah, I know, but now I feel like I'm blindfolding someone every time I turn down the settings," Bruce said.

"For me it is like looking the other way whilst handing someone a towel," JARVIS explained.

Bruce chuckled. "Okay, then."

"So basically, we want the friendship mode to act as a shift in the direction of intimacy, rather than the direction of obscurity," Phil said. "The towel analogy is an apt one; people tend to feel more comfortable sharing bathroom space with family or friends than with strangers."

Clint leaned over to add, "Most of the time it's easy to forget that JARVIS is even here, you know? Like he's in a security hub somewhere, just watching everything from afar." He illustrated with a wave of his fork.

"JARVIS is fully present in the lab or garage with Tony," Phil said. "It is other places where he hesitates to interact so openly."

"Well, yeah, he grew up there," Tony said through a mouthful of bread. "Same with the bots."

"JARVIS is pretty active in my lab, too, if I need him," said Bruce. "He's a great assistant."

"Not so much with me," Betty said, going back for more pot roast. "What's up with that, JARVIS? I don't rate an AI lab assistant like the boys?"

"... I was uncertain of my welcome," JARVIS said softly. "I have not known you as long, and it takes time to learn people's preferences. Most Stark Industries engineers prefer total control of their working environment. They are receptive to command-operated computer assistance but resistant to volunteered input, whether human or electronic."

"I should've seen that coming," Betty said. "Okay, for future reference, you are definitely welcome in my lab. I could use the help. I can teach you how to work through the imposter syndrome, too, I've been there and know the exit routines."

"Of course," JARVIS said, "though not even sir wishes my assistance all the time."

"So how do you tell the difference?" Phil asked as he used a piece of bread to soak up the beef broth. "You must have a way of doing it; you adapt the environment to each of our tastes all the time, depending on what we need at the moment."

"I do not know how I tell the difference," JARVIS said slowly. "I just _know."_

"It's the greetings," Bruce blurted. "I've seen it in our shared lab space. Tony, most of the time when you come into the lab, you clap your hands and say something like, 'Daddy's home, wakey wakey,' and everything goes active. If I'm there, you come over and chat. If you're in the garage, the bots roll over to get petted. But if you're more focused already, you just wave at me, turn the music on, and start working. If you're completely lost in your head, then you don't acknowledge _anyone,_ you go straight to your workstation and do everything by hand instead of voice commands."

"How did I not _notice_ this?" JARVIS asked.

"As Tony said, you grew up with it," Phil pointed out. "That can make it harder to identify things consciously rather than subconsciously. How accurate is Bruce's description?"

"Correlation 94% -- thank you, Dr. Banner, your observation is very astute. This will be helpful," said JARVIS.

"You're welcome," Bruce said.

"You know, JARVIS, if you're not sure about something, you can just _ask._ You don't always have to be the one handing out answers," Betty said.

The air vent whiffled a sigh. "If I have to ask, then I have missed something important."

"Chip off the _other_ old block," Tony said. "Edwin Jarvis was like that too. Me, I'd rather ask, because I suck at guessing."

"See, this is why we need a friendship mode. It's about companionship rather than work," Clint said as he chased the last carrot around his plate with a fork. "That way JARVIS doesn't have to guess or ask, because we're making an invitation. Friendship mode should be like calling him to come flop on the couch with us for movie night."

"And you don't cuddle on the couch with someone unless you feel comfortable with them, so that makes sense," Betty said. "Maybe we could start by comparing our individual privacy settings, the ones from our quarters, and the common areas. See if there's anything missing that we could add to the friendship mode, without making anyone uncomfortable."  
"That's easy enough to do," Tony agreed as he finished the end of his bread and apple butter.

"We could lay out some basic parameters of friendship and how friends typically interact," Phil said. "JARVIS, you're a learning system -- if we give you somewhere to start, you can figure out more of it on your own, right?"

"That is generally correct," JARVIS said.

"I'll find some time to noodle around with the code, get a feel for the potential here," Tony said, pushing his plate away.

"Just don't forget the latest assignment you got from Pepper, or she'll call and yell at all of us," Bruce reminded him.

Tony gave a downright piratical little laugh. "Bruce, darling, if I can write code that makes a computer _literally_ user-friendly, then it can be simplified and refined to improve the user interface on ordinary programs," Tony said. "The entire Marketing Department will come in their pants and Pepper will give me a 'Get Out of Meeting Free' card. Which I value more than my American Express black card, just so you know."

"Oh, believe me, we know," Bruce said.

Phil couldn't help thinking back to Talking Eliza and the way people considered that program "friendly," even as clunky as it was. _A more nuanced but still reflective conversational pattern might have potential,_ Phil mused.

"Can we cut the cake now?" Clint asked.

"Sure," Steve said, grabbing the cake plate and dragging the pineapple upside-down cake into reach. "How big a piece do you want?"

"One ring," Clint said. Steve cut him a slice with one of the pineapple rings on top. "And at least one of the extra cherries between the rings."  
  
Steve chuckled and used the point of the knife to flick a second cherry onto Clint's dessert plate. "Here you go," he said, passing the plate down the table. Then he cut more cake for everyone else. The last and largest piece, Steve kept for himself, eating it off the cake plate to avoid using another dish. He looked oddly pensive.

"Is something bothering you, Steve?" asked Phil.

"I'm fine," Steve said, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the cake plate. "It's just ... I miss the colors. The glass is all crystal now. I miss the pink and the blue and the green."

Phil's eyebrows went up. "You collect Depression glass? I didn't know that."

"It's what I grew up with, what we could afford," Steve said.  
  
Bucky nodded. "Used to be, it came in boxes or bags of food, or you could buy a piece for a few extra pennies. Sometimes if I ran errands, I'd get glassware in exchange for the work. People collect it now?"

"Oh yes," Phil said. He dug into his own piece of the pineapple upside-down cake, which was delicious. "It's quite popular. In fact -- JARVIS, run a quick scan on my storage areas, would you? I may have picked up some of that in box lots and not gotten rid of it yet."

"There are seven pieces in your storage areas, all of different colors and patterns," JARVIS said.

"They're yours if you want them," Phil said to Steve. "What colors or patterns are you looking for? It's not my specialty, so I don't know them off the top of my head, but we could look them up."

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. I thought most of it looked pretty. I guess if I saw something that reminded me of a favorite piece, I'd want it, but otherwise anything goes. Ours never matched anyway. We just took whatever we could get."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art classes often explore [lines](http://www.drawinghowtodraw.com/drawing-lessons/improve-drawing/drawing-confident-lines.html) and [dots](http://www.drawinghowtodraw.com/drawing-lessons/improve-drawing/stippling-strokes-tutorials.html). See examples of tracing lines [around dots](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/e3/45/dc/e345dce571455c5f7197b1da433300a9.jpg) and [around leaves](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/01/5e/4d/015e4dd4d49633935024a796c43117bb.jpg). This lesson incorporates [Australian Aboriginal art](https://web.archive.org/web/20131101171935/http://libarts.wsu.edu/ace/county/learning-kits/dots-lines.pdf).
> 
> Pot roast may be cooked in a [regular pot](https://www.cooksillustrated.com/recipes/6225-classic-pot-roast-with-root-vegetables) or a [crockpot](http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Slow-Cooker-Beef-Pot-Roast/Detail.aspx?evt19=1).  
> [  
> Upside-down cake](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Upside-down_cake) can be made in various ways. Here is a [crockpot pineapple upside-down cake](http://www.cdkitchen.com/recipes/recs/167/Pineapple-Upside-Down-Cake97768.shtml) and one for a [regular pan](http://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes/pineapple-upside-down-cake/a1c9a639-0748-4f2c-89f5-fd33cf138986).
> 
> Cake plates may be [clear](https://www.bedbathandbeyond.com/1/1/139305-lismore-crystal-12-inch-cake-plate.html) or [faintly tinted](https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tablecraft-Barcelona-Round-Glass-Plate/dp/B0037XBR4U), but it's rare to find brightly colored glass anymore.
> 
> [Friendship](http://people.howstuffworks.com/what-is-friendship.htm) entails a [close bond](https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/happiness-in-world/201312/the-true-meaning-friendship) between people. It comes in [different types](http://www.uen.org/cte/family/teen_living/downloads/3/student_activities3.2.pdf) and shows [distinct traits](http://www.lifehack.org/articles/communication/15-traits-high-quality-best-friend.html). Know how to [find a good friend](http://www.wikihow.com/Find-a-True-Friend), and how to [be one yourself](http://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Good-Friend).
> 
> Betty and JARVIS have both had experiences with [imposter syndrome](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impostor_syndrome), which makes people feel [inadequate and out of place](https://counseling.caltech.edu/general/InfoandResources/Impostor) despite success. You can [help a friend](https://caps.umich.edu/article/imposter-syndrome) or [overcome it yourself](http://shriverreport.org/10-ways-to-overcome-impostor-syndrome-joyce-roche/). Training is [also available](http://%20https://adainitiative.org/what-we-do/impostor-syndrome-training/). This can make life [stressful for gifted kids](http://www.hoagiesgifted.org/eric/e488.html). It helps to [validate feelings](https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/pieces-mind/201204/understanding-validation-way-communicate-acceptance) and otherwise [encourage people](http://www.wikihow.com/Encourage-People). Role models help too. Understand how to [choose one](http://www.wikihow.com/Choose-a-Role-Model), [be one](http://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Good-Role-Model), and [help children find good ones](http://kidsgoals.com/parental-tips-tips-for-parents-2/tips-for-kids-0-6-years/positive-role-models-for-kids/).
> 
> [There are two relational cultures](http://www.thewire.com/national/2010/05/askers-vs-guessers/19730/). One is called Hint or Guess; the other is called Ask. These have [different patterns](http://%20http://lesswrong.com/lw/375/ask_and_guess/) across individuals, cultures, and contexts. Another option is [Tell](http://lesswrong.com/lw/jis/tell_culture/). It's worth [considering which you are](http://marginalrevolution.com/marginalrevolution/2010/05/are-you-an-asker-or-a-guesser.html). Tony is Ask; JARVIS is Hint, as was Edwin Jarvis.
> 
> [Depression glass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Depression_glass) is beautiful colored glass that was distributed free or cheap around the 1930s. It is now [highly collectible](http://antiques.about.com/cs/depressionglass/a/aa083099.htm). Here is a [glossary of related terms](http://www.depressionelegantglass.com/collectible-glassware-terms-colors/). This [price guide](http://antiques.about.com/od/glasspriceguides/ss/Depression-Glass-PG.htm) has some lovely examples.


	4. Very Special People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers discuss collectible glassware. After supper, they watch a movie together. Steve draws with charcoal pencils. Bucky admits that his prosthetic arm is bothering him, and lets Bruce help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all the end notes would fit, so I moved some here.
> 
> [](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macbeth-Evans_Glass_Company)  
> The Macbeth-Evans company made a variety of Depression glass including this [monax creamer](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/c1/e6/a3/c1e6a3e9a5e30721241262dcf2ffb667.jpg) in the [American Sweetheart](http://www.ediesglassware.com/romantic-homes-2-2000-issue-v3.htm) pattern. It's hard to see on monax, so here's a [closeup of the rose pink](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/d3/10/85/d3108534368b3f6c27f037c4301ff85a.jpg), [line art](http://images.replacements.com/images/images2/crystal/M/P0000054432S0002T2.jpg), and [part of a catalog page](http://chataboutdg.com/gallery/details.php?image_id=20322&mode=search).
> 
> Watermelon is the pink and pale green Depression glass, either in [separate pieces](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/29/57/cc/2957cc27d77c7ed7c8c7c0021e7499a4.jpg) or unified like this [pink glass with green foot](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b9/86/b8/b986b88657ce83b968168d73ce737b16.jpg). See also this [pink dish whose lid has a green handle](http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w279/essexantiques/000%20old%20estates/Jennifer/JohnF/JohnF1234139.jpg), and this [pink dresser compact](https://web.archive.org/web/20071110153219/http://www.spglass.com/jpg/f-n/morgancompact1.jpg).  
> [](https://web.archive.org/web/20131208234528/http://spglass.com/rarities.html)  
> There are many rarities, such as [Tony's Pairpoint Lifesaver decanter](http://www.depressionglassclubjax.com/Portals/0/Gallery/Album/1/pairpoint-lifesaver-decanter%5B1%5D.jpg) which says "When Sinking, Take Hold."
> 
> [Dichroic glass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dichroic_glass) is made by [fusing layers of glass and metal](http://www.firemountaingems.com/encyclobeadia/beading_resources.asp?docid=7a1x). Watch a [video of it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBH-ogj3rdo).
> 
> [Carnival glass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnival_glass) has a distinctive metallic sheen. Here is a [glossary about carnival glass](http://www.ddoty.com/glossary.html). See the [punchbowl and cups](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/3c/ca/39/3cca39688688bd9c7564e2c7e3474b6e.jpg) and the [compote dish](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/3e/0d/41/3e0d4165c7faf5855bf0b2f9cefa86af.jpg).
> 
> The story about [a little dude beating the shit out of a whole mob of Nazis](http://www.cracked.com/article_19585_6-real-acts-self-defense-too-awesome-action-movie.html) is true. I just changed the hero. ;)  
>   
> [Vaseline glass](http://www.vaselineglass.org/?page_id=35) is a yellow-green material made by tinting glass with [uranium dioxide](http://carnivalglass101.carnivalheaven.com/id48.htm). Here is the [perfume bottle](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/33/30/63/333063f66735a6ceadd44dd8fe364f0e.jpg).
> 
> "[Very Special People](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/64048.Very_Special_People)" is the carnie term for performers that the other side of the haybales refers to as "[sideshow freaks](http://listverse.com/2014/02/03/10-lesser-known-circus-sideshow-freaks/)." I have a few books that explore circus culture from the inside, and it could be very different than what people thought. Given the mishmash of canon about Clint's past, I extrapolated that his circus combined positive and negative elements. He had to have gotten his heroic impulses from somewhere, and he sure as hell didn't get them from his family.
> 
> [The 1957 Oscars](https://www.oscars.org/awards/academyawards/legacy/ceremony/29th.html) included _[Around the World in 80 Days](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Around_the_World_in_80_Days_\(1956_film\))_ , based on [the novel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Around_the_World_in_Eighty_Days); and [The King and I](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_King_and_I_\(1956_film\)), also based on the book _[Anna and the King of Siam](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_and_the_King_of_Siam_\(book\))_.
> 
> This diagram illustrates [horse tack colors](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/3d/af/57/3daf5715938edc11fc8a9468e8d69708.jpg).
> 
> [Charcoal drawing](http://www.jdhillberry.com/how_to_draw_pg2.htm) involves a lot of [texture](http://www.learn-to-draw-expressively.com/drawing-realistic-texture.html), such as [rubbings](http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2009/sep/19/drawing-guide-rubbings-texture).

"You can mix and match Depression glass," Tony said suddenly. "Pepper likes the pink and the pale green; she calls it her watermelon set. She has mostly solids and a few bicolors. Some of them are family heirlooms from her grandmother, but I bought her the compact. All the transparent pastels look pretty good together, though. I think you've seen my lifesaver decanter on the bar in my penthouse, too."

"That's right," Phil said with a nod. "I know one collector who likes the opaque colors, such as the jade and the milk glass, and another who goes for jewel tones like the ruby and the cobalt."

"Monax," Steve said, snapping his fingers. "That was one of the colors I liked. It looked white, but if you tilted it into the sun, it would come up rainbows inside, like pearl or opal."

"We have a monax creamer in the American Sweetheart pattern from the Macbeth-Evans company," said JARVIS. "I will have all the Depression glassware pulled from storage and delivered to your apartment, where you may sort through it at leisure."

Steve squirmed around on his chair to take his Starkphone out of his pocket. "Show me?" he said. "Oh, that _is_ pretty."

"Didn't Mrs. Birch have one like that?" Bucky said as he looked over Steve's shoulder. Bucky picked off the unwanted, too-sweet cherries from his cake and dropped them on Steve's plate.

"Yeah, maybe not exactly, but close I think," said Steve, picking up one of Bucky's abandoned cherries. They were both smiling.

Phil smiled too. _It would do them both good to start a new hobby, something based in happy memories, something they can share,_ he thought. _Collecting things is fun, and dishes are practical too._

"Tony, are you still dabbling around with the shatterproof stuff?" Bruce asked. "I know you were trying to tint it at one point."

"Yeah, off and on," Tony said. "I can do white, or white-ish anyway, that's what I'm putting out as a ceramic substitute for the casserole dishes in the kitchen. Frost works too, on the clear stuff. But when I try to add real colors, it comes out all funky. I'm not happy with it yet."

"You could just do mold patterns like the old pressed glass," Bucky said. "That can't be much harder than making a plain mold."

"Some of the glassware I'm turning out does have simple patterns on it," Tony said. "You know, ripples and stuff like that. I suppose I could do a grapevine or something on the casserole dishes; we have some breakable ones in that style."

"What about adding the color later, like a glaze or something?" Betty said.  
  
"I don't know, maybe?" Tony said. He twirled his pineapple slice on a fingertip before nibbling delicately at it. "I suppose I could look it up. I've been trying to add the color directly to the molten material. What made you think of doing it later?"

"I took a ceramics class for art credit in college," Betty said. "The science is completely different for self-color and top-color in any kind of kiln work. The glassworking students had all different things they were doing -- oh, you should have seen some of the dichroic work, it reminded me of this old funeral vase my grandfather won at a carnival."

"I like carnival glass," Clint said quietly. "Some people at my old circus still had a few pieces."

"Really? What kinds?" Steve asked.

"The Bearded Lady had the most, I think. She had half a set of amethyst teacups," Clint said. "She was always nice to us. I used to sneak into her place after the show, and she'd make tea and feed me cookies."

Phil stayed quiet, waiting to see if Clint would continue. He rarely spoke of his circus days. Phil thought it might do him some good to have company in those memories, but Clint was still skittish about it, even after all this time.

"That sounds pretty," Steve said. "Any other pieces stick in your mind?"

"Ah, you'll laugh, but our Strong Man had the silliest little bowl on a stem, sort of pale blue with an opal sheen. He kept candy in it -- guy had a sweet tooth about like yours," Clint said. "Sometimes he let me borrow his dumbbells, the little ones, to build up my muscle."

 _So that's why you like free weights so much,_ Phil mused. He'd never heard that particular tidbit before.

"Dum Dum used to work as a Strong Man," Steve said with a fond smile. "He could bend bars, if they weren't too thick. He rescued a lot of fellas from the Nazis that way. Not to mention the time he beat up a couple dozen of Nazis, and nobody wanted to believe it was just _one fella_ who cleaned their clocks. Then after this happened --" Steve waved a hand at his enhanced body. "-- Dum Dum helped me learn how to handle my strength."

Clint nodded. "I think that's why the Strong Man I knew liked to collect delicate things. Because he could. People thought he would break everything, but he never did. He was the gentlest person I knew, growing up. He could hold that fussy candy dish without so much as spilling a mint."

"I believe that style of bowl is called a compote," Phil said. "I don't collect glassware, but I know plenty of people who do."

"I think the prettiest piece was -- well, there were these sisters, twins, they had a perfume bottle that used to be their mother's. It was mostly sort of a yellow color, but it would glow bright green under a black light. Only they could make it glow without the light, too. It was part of their gig. They were Very Special People," Clint said. Mutants, probably. "I used to bunk with them, sometimes, when I got old enough that the other girls would bug me. The twins kept me safe. But then Barney --" Clint broke off, his face crumpling.

"Twins, you say?" Tony chirped. "Let me tell you about a pair of twins I met in Rio. They were playgirls -- Misses April -- and that was a very memorable year if I do say so myself. Anyway, thanks to the Misses April and a bottle of truly splendid tequila, I made the acquaintance of their camera man and posed for my first swimsuit issue. Only it turns out their favorite shooting beach was actually private property, and the owners walked in on us while ..." The story spooled onward, vivid and ridiculous.

Eventually Clint revived enough to start collecting empty dishes. "Who's washing up tonight?" he asked.

"Just put 'em in the dishwasher," Bucky said as he sealed the last bit of pot roast into a storage tub. "I'm in the mood for a movie."

"I'm all over that," Tony agreed.

Phil ran a damp cloth over the tabletop. "JARVIS, what are we up to on the live-action list?" They had been watching selections from the Oscar-winning films of the years that Steve and Bucky had missed, to help them catch up on cultural history.

"1957," said JARVIS. "Best Picture: _Around the World in 80 Days_. Best Actor: Yul Brynner in _The King and I_ \--"

"Oh, I loved that book!" Steve exclaimed. "Can we watch _Around the World in 80 Days?"_

"I heard _The King and I_ is pretty hot," said Bucky.

"I like travel adventures," Clint said. "If other folks want to watch _The King and I,_ that's fine, but then I'm heading out, because romance -- _meh."_

"That's okay, I'd rather have your company than the movie," said Bucky. "Any objections to _80 Days?"_ Everyone shook their heads. "JARVIS, put it on the screen, please."

"Ready at your convenience," JARVIS replied.

Soon they all moved into the common room. Tony, Bruce, Bucky, and Steve piled onto the couch. Clint and Natasha took the loveseat. That left Phil and Betty in chairs. JARVIS dimmed the lights -- even the fish tank in the back of the room went into starlight mode -- and then the viewscreen activated.

The opening of the movie reprised an earlier film, _A Trip to the Moon_. "It's still hard to believe that we actually _went there,"_ Steve murmured.

"Yeah, I never get tired of watching that," Bucky said. Bruce and Tony were nodding along. Phil silently agreed. The lunar landing had been an epic accomplishment.

When Phileas Fogg made his outrageous bet, Clint started snickering. "That is so you, Tony!" said Clint.  
  
Even Natasha was smirking. "If Tony is Fogg, then Happy must be Passepartout," she said.

"I'd never get anywhere without him," Tony agreed.

Then Police Inspector Fix appeared in hot pursuit. "I sympathize with that poor fellow," Phil said. He'd spent a lot of time chasing people, including some of the ones in this very room.

"It's less fun when you're the one being hunted," Betty said quietly. Phil dropped the topic, painfully aware that she as well as Bruce had unpleasant memories of her father's stalking habits.

Passepartout dove into a comic bullfight in Spain. Tony, Bucky, and Clint howled with laughter. Tony elbowed Bruce, but Bruce wasn't laughing, and he pulled away from the motion. "Hey, you okay in there?" Tony asked.

"We saw a bullfight once. It was ... bad," Bruce said, ducking his head.

"You don't have to watch," Tony said, but by then it was over. Bruce snuggled back against Tony.

Fogg and Passepartout made it to India. "Lovely country," Natasha said. "I wish I could have seen more of it."

Then the plot turned darker as young widow Princess Aouda was forced toward the funeral pyre of her late husband. Bruce's full-body flinch put Phil on alert. "I, I need to step out for a minute," Bruce said. JARVIS was quicker, freezing the screen before Bruce made it all the way off the couch.

"We can just skip this scene. It's creeping me out too," Bucky said. Steve nodded vigorous agreement.

"Okay," Bruce said, burrowing under Bucky's arm. Bucky hugged him.

"After a daring rescue by Phileas Fogg and Passepartout, Princess Aouda joins their adventure, and they set forth for Hong Kong," JARVIS narrated. Then he reactivated the movie at a later scene. Soon enough, Bruce settled down and enjoyed it again.

Clint and Betty loved the Wild West part the best. By the time the heroes made it to Liverpool, Bruce was already chuckling over the date, even before Passepartout found the newspaper. Betty and Natasha both grinned when Aouda entered the Reform Club, the first woman to do so. "And the glass ceiling goes _smash,"_ Betty said happily.

"I like seeing things like that," Steve agreed. "It makes me feel good to know that the world is making progress. It's not perfect, but we're sure trying." Bucky nodded. Both of them were sensitive to such milestones. Betty openly approved of Steve's feminist leanings, although Natasha was more reserved.

When the movie ended, the cartoon credits made Steve and Bucky stir in their places. "I thought this was live-action?" Bucky said.

"While the film proper is live-action, it is also well known for the seven-minute animated title sequence at the end, done by award-winning designer Saul Bass," JARVIS explained.

"I think it's swell," Steve said.

After the movie, JARVIS turned up the lights again.  Phil moved to the empty spot on the loveseat next to Natasha, who settled herself against him with their sides just touching. Steve brought out his charcoals and started working with them.  
  
Tony left the couch in order to give him more room, moving to his favorite chair. There he took out a large Starkpad and started working on schematics of Bucky's arm again. Bucky shifted, his back popping. Bruce scooted over to let him stretch.

Steve did a set of art exercises. First he took charcoal rubbings of various things. Then he tried to duplicate the textures by hand. The coffee table was a jumble of charcoal and graphite pencils, sticks of pressed charcoal, irregular vines, plus assorted erasers and blending tools. As the pencils wore down, Steve took out his pocketknife and whittled them sharp again. Then he frowned at the results.

"We have electric pencil sharpeners for a reason, Rip Van Winkle," said Tony.

"I know, but I don't like them," Steve said. "They make all the points come out the same, and sometimes they break the lead." He nudged Bucky and made a questioning noise.

"Yeah, yeah, give 'em here, runt," said Bucky. He set about sharpening the pencils that Steve pushed over to him. They murmured together, some intimate vocabulary about round points and chisel tips. Bucky's right and left hands worked so smoothly together that it was hard to tell one of them was artificial.

"See, look," Steve said when Bucky had finished off the pencils with superior skill. "This way I can do more things with them. You can't do that with an electric sharpener."

Phil leaned over to look, followed by Tony and Natasha. Some of the pencils had long leads, others shorter. Several were indeed cut to a flat edge. "These resemble a calligraphy nib," Natasha observed, one lacquered fingernail almost touching the nearest example.

"That's where I got the idea," Steve said. "I can never get it quite right myself, but Bucky can."

Tony sighed. "It's a hand job."

"What?" Bucky said, startled into a laugh.

"Some things can be done well by machines," Tony explained. "For others, though, the best tool for the job is a human hand." He reached out to cup Bucky's hands in his, the flesh and the metal alike. "I could build a mechanical hand, but I've never been able to program one with the finesse of a flesh hand. That's why DUM-E still has the shape he does. Even JARVIS can't quite duplicate the natural motion of human fingers. When you carve something like that, it's all you, it's a tiny little sculpture." He rolled one pencil delicately under his fingertip. "There's always something ... just out of my reach."

"I'm still impressed by your reach," Bucky said, sliding a hand up Tony's arm to touch his chest.

"So, what can you do with the chisel tips that you can't do with round points?" Phil asked, curious about the difference.

"Watch this," Steve said. He swept the pencil across the page in a delicate swooping motion. As it twirled between his fingers, the line widened and then narrowed again. After several strokes, Steve held up the page.

"It's a stream!" Natasha exclaimed. Phil smiled, equally intrigued.

"Water marks," Steve said, nodding. "This kind of point is good for doing smoke, too, and ribbons -- anything that needs variation in line width. It's a lot easier to do with pen and ink, but I love charcoal, so I learned this trick."

"Do you do studio work too?" Betty asked as she came over to join them.  
  
"Some, but not much; I don't have a model willing to pose for me," Steve said. He added stones along the line of the creek.

"You could just ask," Betty said.  
  
"No, I don't want to do that to Natasha. She gets enough of people looking at her like an object," Steve said as he penciled in weeds between the rocks.  
  
Natasha stared at him. Phil knew that she wasn't used to people thinking of her any other way, despite his efforts. It still came as a surprise to her.

"I meant me. I used to model in college," Betty said.  
  
"Really? You'd do that for me?" Steve asked, looking up from his picture.

"Sure. Take your pick of clothed, leotard, or nude. We can find some great props around the tower if you want any of those," Betty said.  
  
"She's really something," Bruce said softly. "I got to see a few of the pictures."

"I have a bolt of salt-splash silk, dyed in sunset colors," Tony said.  
  
"You have a bolt of _silk_ just lying around somewhere," Steve repeated, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Yeah, well, it was supposed to be for Pepper but she said it wouldn't look good on her, what do I know," Tony said. The toe of his right shoe went flick, flick, flick where he had that leg crossed over his left knee.

Betty nodded. "Warm colors can be tricky for redheads. It should look fine on me. Try blues and greens for Pepper," she said.  
  
"Yeah, chestnuts are in the redhead group," Clint said. "You tack 'em up in earth tones. The cool tones look good on almost any horse. Our liberty act used peacock feathers. That's one reason my costume was purple, so I'd look good alongside their tack during my bareback archery routine. Betty's right, you want blues and greens for Pepper."

"Blues and greens," Tony echoed, typing on his Starkpad.

"I, um, I'd like ..." Bruce began, then trailed off. Steve made quiet encouraging sounds. "Will you let me see the studio pictures?"

"Of course," Steve said. "She's your best girl; I shouldn't be drawing anything you don't get to see. I mean, Betty makes her own choices, but ..." He gave a helpless shrug, unable to articulate the delicate point of etiquette any better.

"It's fine, Steve," said Betty. "Just let me know when you want me to model for you." Then she yawned. "For now, I'm heading to bed though." She kissed Bruce goodnight and then left.

Clint stood up and stretched.  Then he wandered off to his own quarters.

Steve looked at Phil and Natasha cuddled together on the loveseat. One of Natasha's feet kicked in a slow, lazy pattern. "You may draw me if you wish," she said.

"Thanks," Steve said. "Would you mind taking your shoes off?"

"Why?" She stilled in place.

"It'll be easier to draw you dabbling in the stream, if I can see your feet," Steve explained.

"All right," Natasha said. She pushed her shoes off and then stretched her toes.

"Perfect," Steve said. The charcoal scraped softly against the paper as he sketched in the lines of her body. Then he used the chisel tip again to define the curling riot of her hair. "You'd look lovely in sepia tone. I should try that sometime. But Phil's better in black and white."

"We probably have sepia whatever on the studio floor, if you didn't get any of your own," Tony said.

"There are colored pencils in sepia tones, and a selection of brown inks with contemporary composition," JARVIS said. "We do not have the original sepia made from cuttlefish."

"Modern stuff's supposed to be better, yeah?" Steve said. He added Phil beside Natasha, serene in gray tones. "I saw something about that in a catalog. I may give it a try some time. I'm still figuring out which media I like the best, now that I can afford to experiment with all different things."

In the picture, Natasha sat on a boulder, kicking her bare feet in the water. Phil lounged beside her. Both of them seemed relaxed and happy. They wore their usual clothes, though, as if they had paused after a mission to cool off in a convenient creek. The textures of the stones, the water, and the plants all looked different and interesting. It wasn't quite realistic in style, more a matter of conveying the _mood_ of a rustic outing. Steve had a knack for capturing emotion.

The real Phil loved that picture. He wanted, not the fact of the location, but the sense of ease and openness it evoked. Then he looked at the languid curve of Natasha's body on the loveseat, and realized something precious. Steve hadn't changed anything but the _setting._ Their poses and expressions were just the same.

Phil smiled, and snuggled a bit deeper into the loveseat. Steve chuckled as he pushed the pad away, picture complete. Bucky shifted position. His right hand came up to rub his left shoulder, tracing the seam where hidden metal met flesh.

"Bucky, are you okay?" Bruce asked. "You seem fidgety tonight."

"Arm's bothering me a bit," Bucky admitted.

"Want me to check it for you?" Bruce said.

"Nah, it'll wear off in a few hours, always does. It's not really the kind of thing you could fix," Bucky said.

"Phantom pain?" Bruce guessed.

Bucky startled. "How did you know?"

"You've come to trust me with your body. You trust Tony with your hardware. If you thought it was something we could help with, you would have said so," Bruce said. "That leaves something outside either range. Phantom pain seems the most likely."

"It's not exactly pain ..." Bucky said slowly.

"I'm listening," Bruce said. "Tell me more."

Bucky's left hand flexed, opening and then closing again. "It's more like, I don't know, heat lightning? Flickers of sensation, here and there, a tickle or a warm spot," he said. Then he tapped the prosthetic arm. "But not here, because I don't have that kind of feeling anymore, just pain and pressure. It's as if I get impressions from my real arm, except that doesn't make any sense, because it's _gone_. Only the feeling is left." He shrugged, one shoulder at a time. "Sometimes it creeps up and makes my back ache, too."

"Let me take a look. Maybe I can help," Bruce coaxed.

"Okay," Bucky said. He shucked off his shirt. The vents whiffled as warmer air spilled into the room. Where the hard rim of the prosthesis met skin, there lay a band of thick scar tissue with narrower lines radiating outward from it, legacy of the not-too-careful surgery that grafted it in place.

Bruce pressed gentle fingertips along the front and back of Bucky's shoulder, following the groove on both sides. Phil could see the chest muscles twitching in response. Bruce stroked his palms over the junction between flesh and metal, silently acknowledging them as two different parts of the same body. Bucky sighed and relaxed a little more.

Then Bruce moved down the length of Bucky's arm to the hand, where he tested the motion of the fingers. He always handled it with compassion, never shying away from it or treating it as inert equipment the way some of the SHIELD staff had. Bruce had his eyes half-closed in thought. All his attention poured into his fingertips.

"What are you possibly getting out of that?" Bucky asked, watching the doctor work.

"How the extra weight affects your back. How your muscles feel in the shoulder. How your hand moves under my touch. How your self-image meshes with the prosthetic equipment," Bruce said. "You have a neural map of your whole body inside your brain. Most of what you feel isn't here --" He brushed a hand up Bucky's arm. "-- it's here." Bruce touched a spot just above Bucky's ear.

"How does that help?" Bucky asked. "It's not like you can rub it away, the way you do when Clint messes up his shoulders."

"Well, the nerves that run through your body also create copies of that map in certain places, such as your feet," Bruce said. "So if I rub the right spot there, I may be able to reach that mental image of your arm and convince it to quit bothering you. Massage can help with PTSD and phantom pain. Will you let me try?"

"Sure," Bucky said. He kicked off his shoes and socks, then put his feet in Bruce's lap. That left his upper body braced against Steve for support. Steve shifted in place until he could hold Bucky more securely. Bucky gave a happy wriggle and snuggled into him.

Bruce smoothed his hands over both feet, encouraging Bucky to relax. It didn't take long for Bucky to melt into Steve's cradling grasp. Bruce murmured a description of the map pattern. Bucky didn't seem ticklish in response to the soft touch of Bruce's fingers.  
  
"Okay, you're relaxed enough now. I'm searching for tender spots, so this may hurt a little," Bruce warned. "Try not to kick me in the face."

"M'fine." Bucky's voice had gone blurry and slow.

Bruce shifted his grip so that he could apply more pressure with his thumbs, working his way down Bucky's left foot. "Tell me what you feel."

"Hands're warm."

"Besides that," Bruce said with a chuckle.

"Little toe feels different. Not sure how," Bucky said.

"Part of that connects with your brain and neck," Bruce explained. "If I move down a bit, that's your arm and hand, along the outside of your foot."

"Yeah, that's a tender spot," Bucky said.

Bruce patted his pockets with his free hand until he came up with a felt-tip pen. "Good thing your feet aren't ticklish, I want to mark this." Bucky held still while Bruce traced the outline. "Going toward the center, that's your shoulder ..."

"Worse," Bucky said. "Maybe overdid it a bit today. Out of shape."

"I don't think you're out of shape, as much as still recovering from everything you went through. You were drowning in foreign chemicals when we first picked you up," Bruce said. "Now that you're somewhere safe, with good food and a decent bed, your body can go back and shore up things it let slide earlier for sake of survival. That's going to take some adjustment, and you may get odd effects occasionally." He shifted his thumb minutely.

Bucky yelped and yanked his foot away. He scrambled backwards across the couch. Steve lunged forward, trying to put himself between Bucky and Bruce. Bucky wound up balanced precariously on the far arm of the couch. Bruce spread his hands. It all turned into a mad tangle.

"All right, everyone, settle down and let's work out what happened," Phil said. The sudden motion had brought him to his feet. He laid a soothing hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve gave a truculent growl.  
  
"It's okay," Bucky said to Steve. "Bruce warned me. I just didn't expect it to hurt _that_ much."

"Frankly neither did I," Bruce said with a frown. "I'm sorry about that."

 

"Bet you hit the cut line," Tony said without looking up from his Starkpad. "Mine's a bitch too, big as a goddamn dime right in the ball of my foot."

Phil hadn't known that, and from the way Bruce's eyebrows went up, neither had the doctor. "That would do it," Bruce murmured.

"What you did, I _felt_ it," Bucky said. He was rubbing the juncture again. "It was like licking a battery, only with my whole arm."  
  
"That sucks, but it's a good sign," Tony said. "It means that your brain hasn't given up on you having a left arm. Get some decent tech on you, and you should be fine."

"Thanks, Tony," said Bucky. Then he turned back to Bruce. "Sorry I jumped so much. What now?"

"After that, I have to rule that you're too sensitive for direct pressure on the reflex points," Bruce said. "If you want to keep going, I can try switching to broad shallow strokes. But first we should think about moving this to a private room, or at least giving other folks a chance to clear out."

"I'd rather not move. If I stop now, I'm not sure I'd have the guts to let you start again," Bucky admitted.

"I'm not leaving him," Steve said through his teeth.  
  
Neither Tony nor Natasha made a move. "I'm good," Tony said.

Phil certainly wasn't about to walk away from such a volatile situation. He gave Steve's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  
Steve sighed. "Sorry. I'm being rude," he said.

"I'm fine, runt. Bruce didn't hurt me on purpose," said Bucky. He slid back across Steve's lap to the middle of the couch. Then he returned his feet to Bruce's care.

Steve shook himself a little, settling into his corner of the couch. Phil reclaimed his spot on the loveseat. Natasha was alert instead of relaxed, but not agitated.

"Take a minute to calm down," Bruce said to Bucky. "Slow your breathing. Unwind your muscles."

"Do you think this will still work when you can't push on the right spots?" Bucky asked.

"Just the heat of my hands should help soothe the jangled nerves," Bruce said. He cupped Bucky's left foot in careful fingers, not rubbing yet, just holding. "We'll see what else happens. With a little luck, this might smooth things out enough so that you're not getting those localized flashes of sensation, even if the phantom effect doesn't go away altogether."

"Mmm. Sounds good," Bucky said. He let himself lean back against Steve. With another sigh, Steve rearranged himself into a Bucky-cradle again.

Bruce flexed his hands around Bucky's foot, slow and soothing. Bucky gave a soft hum of approval. Bruce nodded in satisfaction.

Phil let himself relax, content that the situation wasn't likely to explode again. Natasha cuddled against him, more demonstrative than usual. Phil let his arm drift down from the back of the loveseat to her shoulders. She did not shake him off.

"Think it's helping," Bucky said in a hazy voice. "Can feel it a little, now and then. I miss ... feeling different things like that."  
  
"That's natural. It's part of the mourning process," Bruce said. "You lost an important part of your body. Even a functional prosthesis can't make up for everything."

Steve looked utterly stricken, but he remained silent. Bucky couldn't see the look on his face. Phil could. He hoped that Steve would be all right. The past attitudes about handicaps could be pretty gruesome.

Bucky tilted his left hand, staring at it. "Arm works okay, but it's not the same. Just some _thing_ they stuck on me. Miss my own."

The faint sound of Tony's fingers on his Starkpad changed. Phil noticed that Tony was watching Bucky, and had just changed whatever he was doing. Phil wondered what Tony had gone to look up or write down.

"Of course you miss it," Bruce said to Bucky. His hands continued their tender, relentless work. "You never really had a chance to grieve the loss, did you?"

"I don't remember much of what happened," Bucky said. His chin wobbled, voice tightening as he tried not to cry. "It's a jumble. I was falling, and then ... I don't know."  
  
"That's okay," Phil said. "We know your memory comes and goes. Work with whatever of it you have right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whittling is how my grandparents sharpened pencils, and I learned to do it too; you can see a [whittled pencil in this post](http://www.finearttips.com/2010/08/charcoal-drawing-tips-techniques/) and here are [some points](http://static1.squarespace.com/static/5511fc7ce4b0a3782aa9418b/t/552befdee4b0b269a4e339cf/1428942815508/learn-about-pencils.jpg?format=500w). Browse [lessons ](http://pencils.com/drawing-lessons-creating-textures/)on [creating textures](http://www.ehow.com/how_4546901_texture-charcoal.html).
> 
> [Sepia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sepia_\(color\)) is a historic color, a dark reddish-brown [originally made from cuttlefish ink](http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/535050/sepia). It is still used in [contemporary art](http://www.moongallery.com/sepia.htm), but with different formulations. Today you can find sepia tones in [colored pencils](http://www.discoverartwithsandra.com/sepia-toned-colored-pencil-set-hues-old-masters-used-michaelangelo-davinci-renoir-wn0700672/), [pen inks](http://janabouc.wordpress.com/2009/08/25/testing-sepia-pens-sepia-inks-for-washes-and-graphite-pencils/), and other products.
> 
> [Phantom limb syndrome](http://psych.unl.edu/mdodd/Psy498/phantomlimb.pdf) is a pervasive tactile illusion which can manifest as [pain, itching, or other sensations](http://www.transitiontoparenthood.com/janelle/energy/PhantomPain.htm). About 80% of amputees experience some degree of this, although for many of them it fades after a few weeks or months. [Reflexology](http://www.ctcpjournal.com/article/S1744-3881\(07\)00084-9/abstract) is one treatment that can [help phantom sensations](http://www.laurenslade.com/success-story-reflexology-phantom-limb-pain/), because it capitalizes on the connectivity of the nervous system. One approach is to work on an area where the whole body maps itself into a small area; Bucky's arm is gone, but the arm location on his feet is still there. [Other options](http://academyofancientreflexology.com/blog/2012/03/phantom-pain-and-reflexology.html) include working the stump, or the air where the limb used to be. Different ones work for different bodyworkers and clients. And yes, the effect of feeling a cut line is very real; like phantom sensations, it usually fades as the injury heals, but Tony's chest was chopped to hamburger and some of that is never going to act normal again.
> 
> [Foot reflexology](http://www.how-to-do-reflexology.com/reflexologyfootmap.html) can be used to treat [back](http://www.wikihow.com/Relieve-Back-Pain-Through-Reflexology), [arm, and shoulder pain](http://www.positivehealth.com/article/reflexology/reflexology-and-shoulder-issues).
> 
> Bodywork can also [release hidden emotions](http://www.massagetherapy.com/articles/index.php/article_id/940/Freedom-for-Feelings). Experienced bodyworkers learn to watch out for the waterworks, because it can get very intense.
> 
> The [Emotional Freedom Technique](http://www.emofree.com/eft-tutorial/tapping-basics/what-is-eft.html) uses [meridian tapping](http://wellness.mcuniverse.com/2010/what-are-the-meridians-we-use-for-meridian-tapping/) along certain lines and [points](http://wellness.mcuniverse.com/files/2010/06/pcard_eft_acu_points1.jpg). Learn [how to do it](http://www.wikihow.com/Use-the-Emotional-Freedom-Technique-\(EFT\)).
> 
> [Massage therapy](http://www.massagetherapy.com/articles/index.php/article_id/383/Back-from-Hell) is often used to treat PTSD and related conditions. [Different parts of the body](http://www.healing-journeys-energy.com/Body-Wisdom.html) may correlate to different feelings or memories.
> 
> (Some of these links are horrifying.)  
> [Touch](http://sfhelp.org/gwc/touch.htm) is a crucial part of human communication. Many disabled people have [skin-hunger](http://everything2.com/title/Skin+hunger) because [nobody wants to touch them](http://fallingoffmypedestal.blogspot.com/2006/12/touchy-subject.html). Injury and subsequent pain may [impair sexual or nonsexual intimacy](http://www.couragetotalk.org/documents/R4R_Physical%20Injury%20and%20Intimacy_Family.pdf). If you know someone who is sick, injured, living with disability, etc. then one of the best things you can do for them is just touching them in ways they like to be touched.
> 
> See a [static](http://www.dk.com/uk/explore/lifestyle/give-your-best-massage-yet-with-these-reflexology-maps/) and [interactive](http://www.reflexologycharts.org/) reflexology map for the feet.


	5. Major Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky talks about how he got his arm. He falls asleep on the couch, but then has horrible nightmares and wakes up with part of his memory missing. Bruce, Natasha, and Phil take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all the end notes would fit, so I moved some here.
> 
>  
> 
> [Traumatic memories](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traumatic_memories) can cause a great deal of distress. Read about [emotional trauma](http://www.helpguide.org/articles/ptsd-trauma/emotional-and-psychological-trauma.htm), [traumatic stress](http://www.helpguide.org/articles/ptsd-trauma/traumatic-stress.htm), and [how to help someone through it](http://www.helpguide.org/articles/ptsd-trauma/ptsd-in-the-family.htm). This [manual for caregivers](http://amsterdam.park.org/Guests/Stream/trauma_manual.htm) explains that the first step is to restore a sense of safety. After that, it helps to listen respectfully, so the survivor can process strong feelings and integrate the memories.
> 
> [Oxytocin strengthens social memory of negative as well as positive things](http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/07/130722123206.htm%20). Consider that it may be [released by cuddling](https://www.bustle.com/articles/109958-why-touching-your-partner-feels-so-good-according-to-a-new-study-plus-more-reasons-to) to take advantage of having someone to provide comfort through difficult memories.
> 
> The nightmares and subsequent vomiting are [canonical for the Winter Soldier](http://marvel.wikia.com/Category:James_Buchanan_Barnes_\(Earth-616\)/Quotes). Miserable as they are, [nightmares can help integrate painful memories](http://%20http://janderson99.hubpages.com/hub/Role-of-Dreams-in-Dealing-with-Painful-Memories). Many survivors find it useful to keep a [sleep diary](http://www.getselfhelp.co.uk/docs/SleepDiary.pdf).
> 
> (These links are gross.)  
> [Traumatic brain injury](http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/179837.php) occurs from impact to the head. Bucky's fall from the train is an extreme example. [Adapting to TBI](http://www.brainline.org/landing_pages/categories/livingwithtbi.html) is a complex journey. It often causes [emotional changes](http://www.brainline.org/content/2010/03/emotional-problems-after-traumatic-brain-injury_pageall.html), [behavior problems](https://www.caregiver.org/pilotIntegration/indexPersistent.html?uri=/coping-behavior-problems-after-head-injury), [memory loss](http://www.tbiguide.com/memory.html), and other challenges. It [affects family members](http://www.msktc.org/tbi/factsheets/Understanding-TBI/The-Impact-On-Family-And-How-They-Can-Help) as well as the survivor. There are ways to [cope with TBI](http://www.wikihow.com/Cope-With-a-Brain-Injury), [interact with a TBI survivor](http://www.brainlinemilitary.org/content/multimedia.php?id=8087), and [help someone else with it](http://www.biausa.org/brain-injury-family-caregivers.htm). Understand what [TBI survivors want people to know](http://www.brainline.org/content/2011/07/lost-found-what-brain-injury-survivors-want-you-to-know.html) and [what they find most helpful](http://www.brainline.org/content/2013/08/the-most-helpful-thing-someone-has-done-for-me-since-my-brain-injury.html).
> 
> (These are upsetting too.)  
> [Moral injury](http://moralinjuryproject.syr.edu/about-moral-injury/) happens when something pushes people past their ethical boundaries, [such as warfare](http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/07/healing-a-wounded-sense-of-morality/396770/). Consider Bucky to have multiple, compound, spiral fractures of his moral framework. Moral injuries are [difficult but not impossible to treat](http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/07/healing-a-wounded-sense-of-morality/396770/).

"I can't even recall exactly when or how I got the new arm," Bucky said. He rubbed his right hand over his left. "I just woke up and it was there. I think. But I can remember a couple times when they made major changes. Always hated that. They never told me what they were going to do to me ..."

"That's a bad practice," Bruce said. The dark look was all him, though, no glint of Hulk. "You know I'll always be open and honest with you, Bucky. You deserve the consideration, and the chance to make your own choices."  
  
 _Bruce is meticulous about protecting everyone's agency,_ Phil thought. _I think it helps him feel more secure about his own, somehow._

"Thanks," Bucky said. "Wish it was clearer, though. It's hard to feel what you're doing, with your hands spread out like that. It's like you're touching my whole arm at once, sometimes."

"I could try using my fingertips, very lightly," Bruce said.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Bucky said. Steve stirred behind him, but didn't protest aloud, respecting Bucky's choice.

"Just let me know what you feel," Bruce said as his soft hands shifted again.

Bucky giggled. "That tickles."

"I thought your feet weren't ticklish?" Bruce said, looking up.

"His armpits are," Steve said quietly.

"Yeah, it was just for a second, but -- here," Bucky said, pointing to a spot where his left arm joined the shoulder.

"Hmm," Bruce said thoughtfully. He moved a fingertip just below Bucky's little toe.

It took a minute, but then Bucky laughed again. "Weird how it comes and goes."

"Nerves are funny things," Bruce said. "Sometimes you can do the same thing twice in a row, and get a difference response. It's more pronounced when the nerves have been severed, even after the ends heal -- they can throw off false signals, or mixed signals, all kinds of weird results. Most amputees have issues with it now and again."

"I hate thinking of myself that way," Bucky said. He fidgeted against the couch.  
  
Steve ran a soothing hand through his hair. "That doesn't change how I feel about you."

"I know, but sometimes I just ..." Bucky's voice dropped. "... feel like ... _less."_

"It's a common reaction," Bruce said. "You'll find your way through it. You don't have to do it alone, either. You've got us for backup."

"I guess," Bucky said. His eyebrows pinched together with confusion.

Bruce casually moved one hand to Bucky's right foot, stroking both together. "Let's see if we can get your two sides balanced a little better," Bruce said. "Maybe that will help the left stop sparking around."

Bucky gave a soft sound of pleasure. "S'nice."

"That's good. Relax as much as you can. You don't need to pay attention to anything, just let me work," Bruce said. He kept up the light, rhythmic motion. His voice made a soothing murmur, enough for Bucky to keep an ear on, nothing more.  
Bucky hummed under his touch, then eventually went quiet again. Steve petted him from time to time. His broad hand cupped Bucky's shoulder.

"I think he fell asleep on us," Bruce said eventually.

"Yeah, it feels like it; he hasn't moved in a while," Steve said.

"You might want to grab an extra pillow while you can, before the nightmares start, in case he comes up swinging," Bruce said.

Steve stiffened. "Nightmares?"

"He's integrating sensations and memories. They don't fit quite right, because of all the crazy things that happened to him. That tends to cause nightmares," Bruce said. "I know Bucky has issues with that, since we've talked about it a little bit. You two share a bed; you must have seen it before."

"Yeah, it gets pretty bad sometimes. Usually I can ease him out of it, but I worry about him jolting awake and feeling even worse," Steve said.

"It's better that Bucky has someone with him for support," Phil said. "If you can soothe the nightmares even some of the time, that helps." He couldn't help recalling the disastrous occasion of Bucky waking up abruptly with most of his memory missing.

"How, um, how likely is it tonight?" Steve asked.

"I'd say eighty percent at least, maybe better," Bruce said. "I know it sounds awful, but this is probably good for him. Bucky needs a chance to work through things from his past. Okay, I'm no expert here, I'm not that kind of doctor, but I know enough about amputation and torture to make an educated guess."

"Oh," Steve said faintly. "I'm not, uh, doing real well with this subject area. With the train. Department X. Being crippled. Stuff." Steve's fingers drummed nervously on the arm of the couch. "I hate to leave him like this ... but I think ... maybe I should tap out."

Phil held his breath, hoping Steve would follow through on it. This was the first time Phil could recall him _volunteering_ to hand off Bucky's care to someone else.

"I will take your place," Natasha offered, pulling away from Phil. "Bucky is my friend too. I am familiar with his nightmares."  
"We can move him without waking him, right?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, once he's out, he's out," Steve said. He tried to wriggle out from under Bucky, but it was awkward.

"Here, let me help," Bruce said, scooping Bucky toward himself.  
  
"Thanks," Steve said. That gave him enough room to get free. He tiptoed away, the door closing softly behind him.

Natasha slipped into the warm hollow that he left behind. "I am smaller. You will need to lay Bucky in my lap," she said.

Phil brought a light blanket and some spare pillows to make a nest for Bucky and Natasha. "Use these," he said.  
  
Then Bruce lowered Bucky carefully into place. Bucky didn't stir. "There now, that's better," Bruce said.

"Good job," Phil said.

Natasha looked down at Bucky. Her fingertips followed the curving seam of his left shoulder, then a fading scar on his bare chest. She pulled up the blanket, tucking it around him. "Sleep well," she whispered.

"We could be here a while. JARVIS, give us something quiet and pleasant to watch," Phil said.

The viewscreen flicked on, starting a documentary about cooperation among honeybees. It showed mostly fields and flowers, overlain by classical music. From time to time, closeups showed the busy bees at work. The narrator's pleasant voice described the quest for food and the distinctive 'waggle dance' that told of its location.

Tony finished his project and shut off the Starkpad. He looked over at Bruce, steepling his fingers the way they both did while thinking. "How is Bucky's sleep pattern coming along?" Tony asked.

"It's getting better," Bruce said. "He goes under real easy for me now -- well, you saw what just happened." Tony nodded. "Bucky is sleeping about every other night at this point, and in between that he lies down to rest for a few hours. He needs less, like Steve does, so I think Bucky is currently getting almost as much sleep as he needs. Ideally, I'd like to see him get three or four hours a night."

"I hate sleep. It is a ridiculously time-consuming way to recharge," Tony said. "But if it works for Bucky, eh, mileage may vary."

"It's making great progress. I think that's why he's starting to remember more and process those experiences," Bruce said.

"How does that work?" Tony said. "I thought you had to be awake for therapy."

"It's not therapy, exactly," Bruce said. "It's more like, hmm, sleep is when humans defrag their wetware." He paused, tilting his head in thought. "Maybe if you tried it from that perspective, it would help with your insomnia and sleep inertia."

The lightbulb that went on over Tony's head was so dazzling that it cast vivid shadows even in Phil's mind, as sharp and bright as the one in the toolshed. "You are brilliant," Tony breathed. "You are a _genius_. I love the genius that is you." He hopped up to hug Bruce goodnight. Then Tony gave a happy nod and trotted out of the room.

Phil thought about going to bed himself. It had been a long day. Bruce and Natasha could keep an eye on Bucky. Still, the loveseat was comfortable and the show soothing. Phil hated the idea of bailing out. Instead he dropped into a light doze, the way he sometimes did while snatching sleep on a mission, just skimming lightly up and down the layers of his consciousness.

The documentary ran out. Without anyone asking, JARVIS opened another. This one featured night-blooming flowers. Moths and bats wafted across the dark sky. The background music seemed to consist of nocturnes.

The first faint whimper roused Phil from his reverie. He sat up quickly.

Bucky shuddered in his cocoon of cloth. His arms and legs twitched. He looked miserable. Bruce caught his feet in warm, gentle hands. Bucky babbled something in Russian.

"Яша, вернуться ко мне," Natasha murmured. _Yasha, come back to me_. She said more, but Phil couldn't make out the rest of it. Her hands trailed lightly down Bucky's arms to settle over his wrists.

_That way she can control him if he starts thrashing,_ Phil realized. He stayed back, out of immediate reach from Bucky's superpowered fists, but ready to help if needed.

Under the care of Bruce and Natasha, Bucky's soft cries of distress faded. The twitching slowly stilled. His body relaxed again. He seemed to be drifting back into a more peaceful sleep.

Then Bucky lunged upright, half-awake already. He made ominous gulping noises.

Bruce hauled him off the couch and hustled him into the bathroom. Loud retching carried through the open door.

"This happens," Natasha said quietly. Her hands balled up the blanket. "The memories make him sick of himself."  
  
She looked so vulnerable that Phil came over to sit beside her, balancing himself on the arm of the couch. "Before, or recently?" he asked.

"Both, I think," Natasha said. She leaned against him just a little, her presence more heat than pressure. "In Russia ... it got bad, sometimes, on the longer ops. There were times he could barely eat."

_No wonder he's had problems with food,_ Phil thought.

Phil heard water running in the bathroom. Then the two men came out, Bruce half-supporting a dazed Bucky. Bruce settled him tenderly onto the cushions next to Natasha. "Take care of him for a minute," Bruce said. "I need to get some things from the kitchen."

Bucky promptly curled into a despondent ball. "We are here," Natasha said to him. She took his left hand in hers.  
  
Bucky pulled it free, then replaced it with his right. He shivered silently.

Phil moved to sit on the coffee table so that he could reach Bucky. Tugging the blanket loose, Phil wrapped it around Bucky again. "If you need to talk, we'll listen," he said. "If you don't want to say anything, that's okay too."

"Who are you?" Bucky whispered. "I know who I am, but I don't know any of you, or this place, and everything's ... weird ... and my head's full of, of ..."

"JARVIS, call Steve," Phil said.

_"Don't,"_ Bucky said sharply. "Don't, I can't, I don't want him to know what I've ..." His face crumpled.

"All right," Phil said. His instincts jangled a warning, because it wasn't like Bucky to hide things from Steve of all people; they practically lived in each other's pockets. Bucky's voice sounded eerily young, too.

"Don't tell Steve," Bucky said. "You have to promise ... _God,_ I don't even know if I can trust you." He uncurled enough to rub both hands over his face. Then he stared at the left, opening and closing the fingers.

"This conversation is privacy-locked, as you wish, dating from Steve's departure from this room," JARVIS said.

"I won't tell Steve any of this, unless it turns into an emergency," Phil said. "In that case, I have no chance of keeping him out of it."

"Yeah, he's a runt, but he won't stop for nothin'. Gotta admire that," Bucky said. "Wait, no, that's ... older somehow. Steve got bigger. Shit, my head is such a _mess."_

"You have been through a great deal," Natasha said.  
  
Phil and Natasha went through the introductory routine. That helped Bucky start to piece together what had happened to him. At least he was able to remember the things they told him, without needing further prompts.

Bruce came back from the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of shortbread cookies, which he set on the coffee table. "Ginger and sugar will help once your stomach settles enough to eat something," he said, tapping the plate. "Start with the tea, though. It's chamomile, lemon balm, mallow, and hops so it'll probably put you back to sleep within an hour." Bruce paused and took a sip. "Yeah, that's cool enough." He offered the cup to Bucky.

Bucky took it and then said, "Do I know you too?"

"Wow, you lost a big chunk of memory again," Bruce said. "Okay, yes. My name is Bruce. I'm your doctor, your friend, and your teammate." He parked himself on the couch.

Bucky sipped at the tea and then mused, "You could've put in more hops. I like the sour flavor." Then he gave Bruce a nervous look.

"Yes, you kibbitz on my herbal teas. Yes, it's okay. I like feedback. We cook together too," Bruce said.

"We do?" Bucky said with a faint smile. "Not a lot of fellas cook."

"Most of us do here," Phil said, "although our skill level and recipe selection varies."

"It sounds nice," Bucky said. He wrapped both hands around the cup for comfort, then frowned. He let go with his left hand, flexing the fingers unhappily.

"Does your hand hurt?" Bruce asked, catching it in his own so he could examine the motion.

"No, it's just ... it feels wrong, to touch a warm cup and sense the shape but not the heat," Bucky said. "My hands are different and it's confusing sometimes."

"Contrast discomfort," Bruce murmured. "That's normal."

"Yeah, I need something to hold onto, something safe. I still feel like I'm falling," Bucky said. A wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "Why do I feel safe with you when I can't even remember you clearly? It's like seeing ghosts, all filmy and vague."

"You still remember us," Phil said. "You just can't access those memories consciously at the moment. They influence your subconscious anyway. Your memory has been cycling, so you have a different set at different times." Phil was developing a theory about that. "Your brain may be trying to help you deal with things one piece at a time, so it's not as overwhelming. What's in the front of your mind right now? What can you remember, and where are the gaps?"

"Growing up is clear. I remember the Depression, and then the war. Joining the army. I was supposed to ship out, but ... then it just goes blank," Bucky said. He took a longer drink of tea.

"Anything after that?" Phil prompted gently. Bucky's childhood shouldn't have caused the extreme reaction.

"I remember falling," Bucky whispered. "Steve almost caught me. He was too far away though. The look in his eyes when he missed, _Jesus,_ I wish I could forget that."

"You can't work through it when you can't remember it," Phil said, "any more than you could fix an engine without being able to see what's wrong with it. It's upsetting, but you can get through it. What else?"

"I think I hit every tree on the way down. I never hurt so much in my _life._ Must've broken most of my ribs. Whacked my head a few times too," Bucky said. His voice hitched and dragged over the words. "My arm was the worst, though. I couldn't even feel my hand by the time I landed. The snow was so cold ... nothing after that for a while, it's another big blank." He picked up one of the cookies and nibbled on it.

"Do you remember me," Natasha asked carefully, "from before?"

"Yes," Bucky said. He lowered his head, casting shadows over his eyes. "Мне очень жаль, Наташка." _I'm so sorry, Natashka._

"Я прощаю тебя," she replied. _I forgive you_. "Say whatever you can remember. When we speak what they ordered us to keep secret, we take away their power."

"Take back your choices," Bruce added. "That's the best way to break out of brainwashing. It's hard, but it helps."

"It is hard. I think they did things to me so I couldn't talk. There was a mask, like a muzzle, a gag ... some torture too," Bucky said, dragging the words out. "I killed people. They made me ... a tool, a weapon. They put this thing in me ..." His right fingers dug at his left shoulder. Blunt nails raked over the corrugated scar tissue. Pink lines sprang up in the wake, vivid against his pale skin. "I can remember the sound of the saw in my bones, the way it echoed all up into my head, how much it _hurt."_

"Be careful with yourself." Bruce reached out, gently but firmly, and peeled Bucky's grip loose before he could damage anything.

"So much blood on my hands, it seems that I'll never get clean again," Bucky said, flexing his fingers.

"You feel dirty because of what they did to you," Phil echoed.

"Every time I think about it," Bucky said. "When I forget, I feel stupid and broken. When I remember, I feel filthy and ruined."  
  
"Red in your ledger," Natasha murmured, tilting her head back against the couch. "Mine is dripping, it's _gushing_ with red. Sometimes it is hard for me to go on. I get very tired." Then she sat up and caught Phil's eye. "But my friends always remind me that I can write in black ink too. That accounts can be balanced, no matter how bad they look. They put the pen in my hands and tell me that the ledger of my life is _mine_ to keep. So I am learning to write my own story."

"I killed so many, and I don't even know all their names. I can see some of the faces. Men, women." One finger circled the rim of the half-empty cup in Bucky's lap. "Alexander Litvinenko, he was the last one I can think of: former KGB, asylum in Great Britain, switched to MI5 and MI6. Polonium-210. They wanted him to _know_ he was dying."

"Bastards," Bruce growled. "That's an ugly way to die --" Bucky flinched away. "-- no, Bucky, it wasn't your fault. Someone _made_ you do that. Leave the guilt on them." His thumb rubbed soothing circles over Bucky's wrist. Bucky leaned against Bruce for support. He wasn't crying outright, but now and then he gave a muffled hiccup.

_So that's what happened,_ Phil thought. _It explains a lot_. British authorities claimed certainty about the assassin's identity, but they never revealed a name, citing interest in a future trial. _You can't take a world-famous assassin to court if you can't find him. I'll have to contact MI5 and smooth it over_.  
  
Fortunately there were protocols in place regarding offenses committed under duress. It would help that Agent Coulson had a marker he could cash for this exact circumstance. The Mafioso once used some espionage personnel in gladiatorial games. Agent Coulson and then-Agent Fury had rescued the last two of what started as a unit of ten from MI5. Her Majesty had expressed considerable gratitude for that. None of the three SHIELD assets they'd been sent to extract had survived long enough for rescue to arrive.

"It's easier when they let me use the guns," Bucky said as he took a long drink of his cooling tea. "I hate when they make me kill up close. The feel of the knife going in. Someone's throat under my ha-hands. I _hate_ it." He shuddered.

"You hate feeling someone die. Most snipers do," Phil said. "It's different for close-combat specialists. Some of them have more trouble processing a long-distance kill."  
  
 _Judging from the personality, this is pre-shipout Bucky with some of the Winter Soldier's memories,_ Phil thought. The idea made his skin crawl. Phil shifted just enough for his knee to press against Bucky's, a small point of comfort. _No wonder he got sick._

Bucky looked at Natasha, because she specialized in contact kills. "They made me train little girls to murder people. Knives. Garrottes. Poison. Guns too, of course. You were ..." He twined a finger through her scarlet curls. "... so _young."_  
  
"Older than I look, now," Natasha said, covering his hand with hers.

"Aren't we all," Bucky said on a broken note. He set down his cup with a sharp _clack,_ shoving the plate away. He swallowed hard.

Bruce picked up Bucky's left hand again. "Focus on the present," he coached. "These are just bad memories. Those things aren't happening tonight. You're not back there. You're here with us, and you're safe now. Feel my touch." Bruce pressed on Bucky's fingertips, one at a time, then several spots on the palm.

_Clever,_ Phil realized. _Bruce figured out where the densest sensor clusters are located.  
_  
"Be in this room," Bruce said. "Find me three blue things that you see."

"Huh ... blue," Bucky said slowly. "Light on the television frame." He glanced over his shoulder. "And in the fish tank, do those count? They're kind of blue-white."

"That's good, one more," Bruce said.

"Your shoelaces," Bucky said.

Bruce wiggled his foot where the turquoise laces showed against the gray shoe. "Well done. How are you feeling?"

"Like I really, really want to stop seeing the things in my head. It's a horror flick in here," Bucky said. He picked up his plate, though, and ate another cookie.

"What about your stomach?" Bruce asked.

"Better," Bucky said. He reached for the cup, only to find it empty. He mouthed the rim, chasing the last few drops. Then he held it out to Bruce. "Could I get a refill?"

"Of course," Bruce said. He took the cup into the kitchen.

"Sorry I got sick like a raw recruit," Bucky said.

"It's okay," Phil said.

"I broke the soap dish too," Bucky said. "Bumped it with my elbow."

"Don't worry about it. We can get a new one," Phil assured him.

"But I liked that one," Bucky said. "The blue and white, I think it's pretty. My ma had one kinda like it."

The soap dish in the common bathroom was something that Steve had brought home, early on, after one of his rambles through a nearby thrift store. No wonder Bucky had gotten attached to it. "It was pretty," Phil echoed.

"I will attempt to repair it," Natasha said. "There is a technique I have been wishing to explore."  
  
Bucky curled up one corner of his mouth. "Thanks. I know people these days mostly throw stuff away, but I hate that," he said. "I'd rather fix things. I wish it was as easy to fix myself, though."

"You'll get there," Phil said.

"I know I have to deal with this somehow, but it's just so ... _terrible,"_ Bucky said. "I don't know how to make it fit."

"I challenge you to a game of Tetris," Natasha said.

"You want to play _video games_ at a time like this?" Bucky said, incredulous.

Just the fact that Bucky recognized the reference gave Phil hope. Bucky's mind was slowly seeping back into its usual shape.

"Sometimes it helps to integrate memories without turning them into flashbacks," Natasha said. "There are studies, with citations."

_I remember those. It's worth a try,_ Phil thought. "Good idea," he said aloud, turning on the viewscreen.

"I'm not sure I feel like playing," Bucky said.

"You are just saying that because you know you will lose," Natasha said. The faintest hint of teasing colored her tone.

"Well, it's not fair. You've had way more practice than I have," Bucky said.

"Here you go," Bruce said, as he handed Bucky a fresh cup of tea. The fragrance was grassy and sweet. It reminded Phil of a summer meadow.

Bucky tasted it and smiled. "You put in extra hops for me."

"You asked," Bruce said. "What's not fair?"

"Natasha wants me to play Tetris, but she knows the game a lot better than I do," Bucky said.

Bruce wrapped his fingers around Bucky's right wrist, seeking the pulse point. He gave a thoughtful hum. "She has been playing it longer," Bruce said. "Also that tea you're drinking will slow down your reflexes. It soothes an upset stomach by affecting the nerves. You've probably lost a solid five percent off your reaction speed already."

Bucky grimaced. "Great," he said, but he didn't give up the cup.

"We can compensate," Phil said. "JARVIS, please adjust the Tetris program to account for the performance of the players, so they can have a more balanced competition."

"JARVIS ... that's the robot butler fella, right?" Bucky said, looking around the room.

Phil gave a sigh of relief at this further sign of Bucky's memory drifting back toward normal. _He's recovering faster than the last time he lost a large amount of recall,_ Phil thought.

"Essentially correct, Bucky," said JARVIS. The viewscreen divided into halves, each with its own Tetris frame. "I have completed the adjustments, and you may begin at your convenience."

Natasha took out her Starkphone and set it to controller mode. "Well?" she said to Bucky.

Bucky patted his pockets until he found his own phone, frowning over it as he tried to figure out how to copy what she'd done. JARVIS activated the control screen for him. Bucky almost dropped the phone in shock. "That's, um, how did you do that?" he asked.

"As an artificial intelligence, I occupy the same layer of reality as the programs in your phone. I can take over an electronic item to assist people," JARVIS explained quietly. "You have also asked me to serve as your prosthetic memory, Bucky. Look at the screen again."

Phil saw the light flicker as the display changed, presumably bringing up Bucky's file of mnemonic notes. Bucky paged through several screens with a deft touch. _At least his muscle memory is in good working order,_ Phil thought. He moved to the couch, squeezing in next to Bruce, to avoid blocking the main viewscreen.

"Okay," Bucky said in a lighter tone. "Give me back the control screen so I can kick Natasha's tail at Tetris." He stuffed the last cookie in his mouth and prepared to do battle.

"Game on," Natasha said, and the blocks started falling. Hers went a little faster than his.

"Looks like a gravity differential," Bruce observed, a smile quirking one side of his mouth. "That reminds me of a Rube Goldberg game I used to play, where you could fiddle with settings for the gravity and atmosphere and stuff ..."

"All versions of _The Incredible Machine_ are available on the tower server," JARVIS said.

"I was just wondering how that would cross with Tetris," Bruce mused.

"Sir had the same idea in his teens," JARVIS said. "Open the tab for Goldberg Tetris."

Bruce grabbed the nearest Starkpad. He mulled over the menu, muttering, "Let's go to ... um ... Mars. No, wait, what's that? Hygiea? Seriously, we can play Tetris on _Hygiea?_ I want that one instead."

"With respect, Bruce, I recommend that you begin on Mars. The conditions on Hygiea are erratic and therefore much more challenging," JARVIS pointed out.

"I don't care," Bruce said with a grin. "I just want to see what it _does."_ He soon lost himself in the colorful display.

Phil watched them all play. Bucky managed a credible showing against Natasha. Gradually the lines of tension faded from his body. Phil noticed that Bucky's half of the screen slowed, very subtly, as his motions became more languid. Watching that made Phil yawn. Meanwhile Bruce was chuckling over the antics of Tetris in space.

Curious, Phil took out his Starkphone and thumbed through the available games. Evidently Tetris on an irregular asteroid involved blocks that fell in a wobbly path -- all the moreso if your Tetris station was set to trundle across the ground. Not to mention the presence of rockets, trampolines, and other oddities at the higher levels.

By the time Bucky's blocks seemed to fall through molasses, Phil was yawning more often. It was getting late. Idly Phil licked his fingertip and absconded with a few crumbs of shortbread left on Bucky's plate. A chip of ginger made a bright zing of contrast.

Finally Bruce called a halt to the games. "Come on," he said to Bucky. "I'll walk you to bed and put you down for the night."  
"Mmmkay," Bucky said from where he drooped against Phil's shoulder.

"Up you go," Phil said as he helped position Bucky for Bruce to lift upright.

"You're stronger than you look," Bucky said, looking down at the much smaller man wrapped around him.

"Strongest," Bruce rumbled as he half-carried Bucky out of the room with easy grace.

"Thank you for helping me take care of Bucky. I am not so good at it," Natasha said. She pressed a kiss to Phil's cheek and then melted away.

"You did very well," Phil assured her. "You were gentle and kind when he needed it, then sassy when he needed that."

A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Goodnight, Phil," she said. Then she padded out of the room, silent as a cat.

Phil yawned again on his way to the elevator. Inside, he leaned against the wall. "Bed, please," he said.

"Coming up," JARVIS said. "May we discuss one last matter on the way, or are you too tired?"

"How complicated is it?" Phil asked, prodding at his level of awareness.

"Nothing sensitive, merely an observation about collectibles in regard to earlier discussions today," JARVIS said.

"I can probably scrape up enough brain for that," Phil said. His phone thrummed, and he dug it out.

"There is one piece of vaseline glass in storage, a plain bowl," JARVIS said, flicking an image onto Phil's screen. "I did not mention it to Clint, because you already offered all the Depression glass to Steve. We have no carnival glass in Clint's referenced colors of amethyst or light blue as yet. Shall I run a search for items approximating his descriptions?"

"I'm not sure exactly how Clint feels about this. He seems to have mixed associations, so I don't know how he'd respond," Phil said. He tapped a forefinger dreamily against the screen. "Run the search, but route the results to me instead of Clint.

"Agreed," JARVIS said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," Phil said. The elevator doors opened, letting him onto his floor. Phil put aside the concerns of the day and headed to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[Kintsukuroi](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi)_ is a process of [repairing broken pottery with precious metals](http://ldsperfectday.blogspot.com/2013/12/why-word-kintsukuroi-means-so-much-to.html). This is one of Natasha's new hobbies. See the [soap dish from the common bathroom](http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/20474/445393), after Bucky broke it and Natasha fixed it.
> 
> Enjoy some [Ginger Shortbread Cookies](http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/ginger-shortbread-cookies-3197). Many people find these helpful for [sensitive digestion](http://www.herbwisdom.com/herb-ginger-root.html).
> 
> Many herbs [soothe the stomach](http://www.rd.com/health/wellness/stomach-soothers/), [aid digestion](http://www.care2.com/greenliving/7-herbs-for-indigestion.html), and [promote wellness](http://www.motherearthliving.com/health-and-wellness/easy-on-the-stomach.aspx#axzz2xLWppgU2). You can buy many types of [tummy tamer tea](http://%20http://naturallivingmamma.com/2012/02/21/tummy-tamer-tea/), such as [chamomile and fennel](http://www.localharvest.org/upset-stomach-tea-for-indigestion-C9990) or [mint and lemon](http://www.teasetc.com/details.asp?prodid=0526). Choose herbs suited to your complaints, desired goals, and taste preferences. In this case Bruce uses herbs that relax the nerves as well as easing nausea more directly: [chamomile](http://www.herbwisdom.com/herb-chamomile.html), [lemon balm](http://www.herbwisdom.com/herb-lemon-balm.html), [mallow](http://www.herbal-supplement-resource.com/common-mallow.html), and [hops](http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/h/hops--32.html).
> 
> (These links are horrifying.)  
> [Brainwashing](https://www.sharecare.com/health/mental-health/what-is-brainwashing) abuses people in ways de[signed to change their thought patterns. Techniques range from everyday manipulation through torture to ](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MindRape)mindrape. It can be a [lengthy process](http://changingminds.org/techniques/conversion/lifton_brainwashing.htm). Bucky has been mentally gangbanged for decades, so obviously that leaves a lot of damage. [Breaking free of brainwashing](http://verbalabusejournals.com/2013/08/how-to-control-your-mind-brainwashing/) is [difficult and unpleasant](http://www.mtoomey.com/breakingfree.html), but possible. [Grounding techniques and relaxation tools](http://www.incaresurvivors.org.uk/resources/ICSSS-Anxiety-Flashbacks-and-Grounding-techniques.pdf) may help get through it.
> 
> (So are these.)  
> [Alexander Litvinenko](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poisoning_of_Alexander_Litvinenko) was [poisoned with polonium-210](http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/nov/06/polonium-210-poison-alexander-litvinenko). Hideous as it is, that's a true story; it seemed like the kind of thing that Department X would use the Winter Soldier for.
> 
> [Tetris](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetris) is a virtual stacking-sorting game which [encourages the brain to think in patterns](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetris_effect). Thus it can [reduce flashbacks](http://www.livescience.com/19894-tetris-treat-ptsd-flashbacks.html) by helping the brain process traumatic memories. (In essence, a flashback is a 'stuck' memory.) You can [play Tetris online](https://www.echalk.co.uk/amusements/Games/Tetris/tetris.html) \-- useful to keep handy in case of emergencies. Check out [some controls here](http://%20http://www.tetrisfriends.com/help/tips_appendix.php#controls) and [improve your game](http://www.wikihow.com/Get-Better-at-Tetris).
> 
> _[The Incredible Machine](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Incredible_Machine_\(series\))_ is a game series in which the player builds [Rube Goldberg devices](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rube_Goldberg_machine).
> 
> [Asteroids](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asteroid) are small solid bodies in space, often irregularly shaped in ways that can [distort their surface gravity](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Standard_asteroid_physical_characteristics#Surface_gravity). [Higiea](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/10_Hygiea) is one.
> 
> [Vaseline glass](http://www.collectorsweekly.com/glassware/vaseline-glass) is a collectible with a [yellow-green color](http://cf.collectorsweekly.com/stories/2ZPUl-6c1i25VBGY7FYyKA-smallh.jpg) tinted with uranium, which [glows under ultraviolet radiation](http://%20http://cf.collectorsweekly.com/stories/Nlj1cjOWa0WBzIm7YOAUTA-smallh.jpg).

**Author's Note:**

> [The ring theory of communication](http://articles.latimes.com/2013/apr/07/opinion/la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407) is "[Comfort In, Dump Out](http://otrazhenie.wordpress.com/2013/10/03/how-not-to-say-the-wrong-thing-comfort-in-dump-out/)." This explains why it is useful to have friends or [counselors](http://%20http://www.yourtango.com/experts/therapistsandcounselors) outside your immediate circle when you need to deal with shit, without dumping it on people who are facing the same challenges.  
> [](http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/07/healing-a-wounded-sense-of-morality/396770/)  
>  Moral injury occurs when someone is forced to violate their own ethics. This kind of rupture is difficult to treat and rarely heals clean. You can see what a mess HYDRA has made of Bucky.
> 
> [Skillet Hofbrau Hash](http://www.cooks.com/recipe/5z9ti6i5/skillet-hofbrau-hash.html) is a tasty breakfast jumble.
> 
> [This is Daveed](https://zaccurrell.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/download-8.jpg). He's Jewish. In _The Winter Soldier,_ he's the one who refused to launch the HYDRA helicarriers, even though he expected to be killed for it, [reappearing in _The Age of Ultron_](https://zaccurrell.wordpress.com/2015/04/25/spoilers-avengers-age-of-ultron-like-a-lot-of-spoilers/). Given the changes in LIFC, we have HYDRA nosing around but not controlling SHIELD.  
>   
> [Jasper Sitwell](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jasper_Sitwell) is another SHIELD agent, one of Coulson's friends. You can read more about [Istanbul](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Istanbul) and [burqas](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burqa).
> 
> [Pope Francis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pope_Francis) has made himself popular with many people, some of them quite unexpected.
> 
> [Rhodey](http://www.imdb.com/character/ch0236065/) / [War Machine](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_Machine) is a [friend of Tony Stark](http://www.ign.com/wikis/marvel-studios-cinematic-universe/James_%22Rhodey%22_Rhodes_/_War_Machine). As you can see here, [Rhodey is bigger than Tony](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35700000/Friendships-Tony-Rhodey-tony-stark-35753199-245-180.png). Almost everyone is bigger than Tony when he's not in the suit. :D
> 
> This is the [wingman tie that Rhodey wears](http://ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/20474/445167).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover art for "Coming in from the Cold: Tuesday: Facing Fears"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12608260) by [Lehorin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehorin/pseuds/Lehorin)




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